Price of a Kingdom
by Seillean
Summary: Morgana has been left with two kingdoms to run but racked with her own grief will she face the huge challenges of her or crumble under the strain? This is set after the end of my previous story "Recovering Magic" so I'd suggest reading that one first
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all, I'm back again!**

** Well, I thought after finishing _Recovering Magic _that there was more story to be told and certainly some of seemed to agree so here I am. This story picks up just where Morgana takes her place as Queen of Camelot after Morgause was killed by Uther. I hope you enjoy it, let me know if you think it's going in the right direction or not. **

** If you haven't read my previous story _Recovering Magic _then I would maybe suggest reading that first as it will help this new story to make sense.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Merlin _or any of its characters, this story is for entertainment purposes only (mainly my own, it has to be said!) and I make no profit from it. **

**Prologue**

Morgana sighed as she stared blankly out of her bedroom window, the glass smeared and grubby through a lack of habitation. After the young witch had disappeared with Morgause Uther had seen no reason to have the girl's chambers maintained. On the other side of the window there was much activity in the square with knights from all over the country arriving, their horse's hooves clip-clopping over the stone while down in the lower town traders and druids alike were filtering through the city gates, hoping to sell their wares to the increased passing traffic that the evening's festivities would bring. The whole of Camelot was brimming with excitement but it was all of it meaningless. Nothing mattered now that she had lost everything in the fight to gain everything. She had lost the only one she had ever loved. The only one, who in-truth, had ever loved her in return. A sudden creak of the door brought her back to reality and the now familiar Cornish accent floated across the room;

"Sorry My Lady, didn't mean to startle you, just came to see how you were".

Isilda had made a promise to Morgause that she would watch over the new Lady of the Lake, vowing to guide her through the no-doubt daunting journey she was embarking on. She had the countenance of a gentle old lady but the young woman was well aware that under the meek exterior a wealth of power lurked within. The old priestess brought her hands to the girls shoulders.

"I know it is easy to say, my darling girl but you _must not_ fear. To be a queen you will have your advisers here in court to assist you and as High Priestess...well, Morgause trained you well. She knew you were ready and she would not have allowed you to go through with this if she believed otherwise. Now you must have the belief in yourself. She did...and so do I."

Isilda's wrinkled smile was warm and Morgana imagined that if she had ever had a grandmother it would feel something like this.

That evening there was to be a great feast in the hall, every region of Britannia would be represented by various lords and magnates, there to celebrate the up-and-coming coronation. Whether or not the different regents would accept the rule of the new queen over that of a king remained to be seen but they had little choice considering that the ancient ideal of power passing down the maternal line was once prevalent in this land. There was no legitimate reason why Morgana should not have been queen. Uther had named her his rightful successor, albeit at the point of a sword and Arthur had disappeared to God only knew where...

**Chapter One**

It had been three months since Morgana was crowned Queen of Camelot. Since that day with its cheering crowds and ridiculously lengthy ceremonies she had spent little time in her new kingdom, preferring instead to live in her home on the ancient Isle of Avalon, somehow feeling more herself here, more of the person she had become while living under Morgause's strict tutelage. She was all too aware that sooner or later she would have to make the arduous ride back to the city but the loss within her heart still felt too great to reconcile in a place that now felt as foreign to her as Rome or Gaul would. It was another cold and windy night with the rain battering down on the thatched roof above her head that she sat staring into the mirror that had brought her the vision of Morgause before she had been installed Lady of Avalon just as she had many nights previous begging her sister to visit her once more. The longer she remained ensconced in her place beside the hearth the more the emotion built inside her until once again it came exploding outward. With her head bowed and the tears fleeing from her eyes a gentle hand slid up her back and across thin shoulders, attempting to still the shivering form. Her body continued its racking sobs until the warm sensation filtered through the heavy cloak to her flesh underneath. She wasn't startled as she looked up but she was surprised at the beautiful woman looking back at her in the reflection. She was a woman of about thirty or so, long blonde locks just like Morgause but with the same penetrating eyes and alabaster skin as Morgana herself bore. Instant recognition came despite the fact that she had not laid eyes on that kind face since she was a babe in arms. The lady moved around to sit beside a Morgana who simply stared in awe;

"Mother!"

"Yes, my darling girl" came the soft reply. "I am sorry to disappoint you," she continued with a knowing smile; "I know you were hoping to see your sister sitting here next to you but she will not be able to come for some time."

Morgana's instant reaction was one of panic..._have I done something wrong? Have I somehow got Morgause in trouble?_but her question was carefully measured;

"But why mother? Is something wrong?"

Viviane tucked a stray strand of black hair back behind her daughter's ear before running her thumb gently across the young woman's cheek, wiping away a few escaped tears.

"No sweetheart but it took much energy for her to come to you as she did before. Energy that she did not have to spare. You must understand Morgana, she loves you deeply and she would appear before you every night if she could but...the way that she, well, came to us ...it will take her much time to recover though she hates being forced into such a state of weakness."

Morgana could not help the slight chuckle that bubbled up from her throat as she thought of a Morgause on the other side of the veil stubbornly dashing about and trying to give orders while all the time being told to take it easy. She was glad her sister had not changed apparently although...

"Is she happy mother?"

"She is my child, though it is you who concerns us both for the moment"

The look of guilt that abruptly crossed the young woman's face told Viviane all she needed to know.

"You know that you must return to public duty, you cannot hide here forever. The world needs you to perform the tasks in front of you."

The thought suddenly crossed Morgana's mind that she had been a less than grateful host;

"I am glad to see you mother, I wish I could have seen you somehow before. I have missed having you in my life...oh so very much!"

The older woman made no attempt to hide the grin that crept its way across her face but it did not change the fact that Morgana could little afford to become a hermit with the way things were.

"Morgana, that was a very good try but it does not alter the fact that you must perform your duty. Listen to your mother...and if you do not then I shall have no choice but to send your sister after you and she will be far less diplomatic than I as you well know!"

"I do not know if I can do what it is you ask of me Mother..."

Her voice was so small and Viviane was a gentle soul in herself. She had only sympathy for her daughter's position and she wanted nothing more than to take her away from it all and give her the peace and comfort the young woman craved but it was not to be;

"We none of us know what we will be expected of us in this life but you are not without support. You have all the support of those of us on the other side of the veil and you will find allies along your way on this side. Now my daughter I must leave you but I shall return and so shall your sister when she is ready."

Viviane placed the faintest whisper of a kiss on the young woman's head and Morgana was alone once again. The crackle of the fire the only sound above her own breathing.

At the same time somewhere on the other side of the country the former Crowned Prince of Camelot found himself consoled by the man who had been his servant and the woman who would be his love. Just what did the future hold? When he had first arrived at this farmstead on what seemed like the ends of the Earth he had been afraid, rejected as though his whole world had been turned upside down but now it occurred to him that there were endless possibilities opening up before him. A chance to start again and build anew but what would he do with it all...?

**Join me for Chapter Two perhaps?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Kind of an interim chapter to get the action going in the next instalment...**

**Chapter Two**

Gwen didn't know what time it was when she opened her eyes and saw the stars all white and twinkling mischievously back at her but it was late, she knew that much. With a sigh she rolled over and screwed her eyes shut, willing herself back to sleep but it was no good. She eased herself once more onto her back, grunting in tired frustration. _No use _she thought as she got up and stalked off towards the forest, desperately trying not to wake Arthur or Merlin as she crept through the dingy hallway, cursing as the rickety old floorboards still persisted in creaking under her feet. Yes, a walk would clear her head though she had no idea where she was walking to, only that she was trudging through thick grasses and dodging the odd cow-pat but she stopped short when she found herself confronted by a narrow spring, it's water seeming to laugh at her as it bubbled its way past. Surely this hadn't been here all the time..._just how far have I walked?_

Still, she could not deny that there was a sense of peace here, an almost otherworldly quality; bliss after feeling so enclosed by the walls of their dwelling. Even the trees that lightly rustled in the breeze did so with subtle consideration, looking almost ethereal under the soft gaze of the full moon. There was a large boulder slumbering next to the waterfall that rushed into the stream, its surface smoothed with age; the perfect place to sit and be alone with her thoughts. At first she felt a little silly, talking to the water that raced by but after a while she began to feel as though someoneor at least some_thing _was listening, some spirit of the wash lifting away her troubles if only for just a few fleeting moments. Arthur had been so distant lately, first through his loss and depression but then one day after walking through the fields that surrounded their meagre shelter it was as though he had become another person entirely, like a fire had been lit from within and blazed out through his eyes. He had ideas, dreams about the new life he could build for himself but more and more Gwen wondered if there was a place for her in it. She had hated seeing him so downcast but at least he had _needed _her then, or so she told herself. He didn't he need her now.

When all the grief had been poured from her soul into the brook below the only thing left within her was empty exhaustion. It was only when she looked to the clearing of the trees she realised the sun was beginning to rise, the sky's blackness disappeared and replaced by the warm glow of reds and oranges that warmed her face. It made her smile. As she lifted herself up to leave she could almost hear a voice telling her that her fears would pass. Perhaps the spirit of the river had indeed been there to receive her. Then again, perhaps it was merely wishful thinking.

While Gwen took her time in making her way back to the others Arthur was just waking up. As refreshing as each new day had become every morning still brought with it the grief of the last few months. When he and his two companions had walked out of Camelot's gates his whole world came crashing down around him. He had lost his father, his kingdom, the sister he could have had...he had lost his home. In truth, had it not been for his servant Merlin and Guinevere he may have looked for a convenient river somewhere. Instead, with them he had travelled to the other side of the land, deep into what had at first seemed like some ridiculous backwater. They found themselves in what had once, long ago, been the land of the Iceni people- known for having some of the most fertile landscapes in all of Britain but Arthur had little mind for farming. On arriving the best shelter they could find was an old abandoned inn, crumbling in parts and filthy to boot with moss and all manner of fungus festering in the walls but it was a roof over their heads.

It was only after days spent roaming the countryside that ideas began to fill the young man's mind. He traced the patterns of the inland waterways, watching the gentle tides ebb and flow on their way out to sea. This land may be known for its pasture and marsh but soon it would be known for something else entirely. No one could ignore the ever-present threat of Saxons across the ocean, eyes set hungrily on British soil like baying hounds on the hunt. Surely if they were to invade it would be through access-ways such as these that provided open routes inland. Arthur well-knew that the locals of this area would be little equipped to mount much of a resistance when the time came.

During his walks he had gotten to know the lay of the land. He remembered the story he was told as a boy of an old abandoned hill-fort somewhere in this area. It had belonged to one of the former tribal leaders that had once ruled over this land before the tide of the Romans. The Tribesmen had made their last stand against invasion here and the fort had fallen into disuse, the Romans choosing to build more elaborate structures for themselves. Arthur had found the abandoned castle and _he _would bring it back to life but he would not mention his plans to the others just yet.

Rising from his bed he left breakfast, not bothering to wake this companions and went in search of further inspiration.

Away to the west in the great Kingdom of Camelot a young queen looked onto the dusty Jousting field from the royal spectator stand. It was that time of year again when the prospect of winning both gold and glory in gory competition drew all those knights not away on campaign to the city's hospitality. Preparations were well under-way with tents already pitched in the outlying fields and the arms of those competing mounted on the lists. This year would be different though. With no Arthur to compete the field was now open to new, younger athletes ready to test themselves against the might of more experienced champions but this year would be different for another reason; the tournament would include contests of magic with druids from every corner of Albion swarming through the city gates keen to show their talents, many of them for the first time. There would be a Bardic contest, a Duelling contest, Conjuring contests with the whole season crowned by a fantastic display of lights and fire.

Morgana was thankful for it, with such distractions and so much to organise it was only in these very rare moments of reflection that the clouds descended and she found herself thinking about the sadness that would not let her go. She thought about how much her sister would have loved this; magic brought out into the open from its various hiding places and secreted hollows. It was while watching the knights practice that a thought occurred to her. She remembered vividly the first time she and Morgause spoke. The older woman had been wounded in a duel opposite the young Prince Arthur. Morgana smiled to herself when she thought of the brash boy who had been so convinced he would easily best his female opponent.

Morgana would compete. She knew her way around a blade...after all, had she not been taught by some of the finest sword-masters these Isles could offer? Besides, how could she expect her gallant lords to fight for her if she could not lead them herself? No, she must once and for all earn her place amongst them and their respect...

**And so to the next chapter...**

**Anyone actually reading this?**


	3. Chapter 3

** Well, feel like I'm kinda losing my way a bit with this story so I'm going to give this chapter a go and if it works I'll continue but if it doesn't I might just cut my losses but if anyone has any thoughts let me know.**

**Chapter Three**

_This armour was never this heavy before, surely! _The young queen grumbled to herself as she hefted the sword above her head for another swing. She grunted as the razor sharp tip made solid contact with the practice dummy in front of her. Beads of sweat were running a path down her aching back, every muscle screaming out in protest with each laboured movement. Morgana had been drilling for hours now. It was only after she'd started training she realised how out of shape she had become over the last few months! Swiping back the drenched hair that had matted itself to her brow she remembered the last time she had wielded a weapon; that dreadful day when she had been proclaimed the true and rightful heir to Camelot. Hindsight was indeed a wonderful thing. She still frequently berated herself, usually in the dead of night when everything else in the world had ceased its turmoil in favour of slumber but the queen herself lay awake; in all of her dreams and visions why had she not prophesied the end of the tale? Morgause had certainly known.

Holding back a sniffle that would have no-doubt led to yet more tears she dragged her fatigued form over to the stand that cradled her own personal collection of arms. Enough was enough. She called over her new serving maid, Gwen's replacement;

"Aelwyd...draw a hot bath for me will you?"

The small girl with honey-blonde hair and bright blue eyes gave a quick bob and scuttled off in the direction of the palace. She was a pretty young thing, reminding Morgana of the young girl that had been so faithful a servant to her older sister. The dark-haired woman smiled as she thought of the first time she had met Alastrine at Morgause's Castle.

_The older witch was still recovering from the injury sustained the last time they had tried to take Camelot out of the grip of Uther Pendragon while the younger woman had been sneaking down to the High-Priestess' vast library. It was during one of these surreptitious visits that the shy hand-maiden first came to Morgana's attention. _

_ She had been sitting in the wonderfully luxurious wing chair, upholstered with the most supple brown leather she had ever had the exquisite pleasure of touching. At her side a content blaze crackled, casting a warm glow across the pale wooden floorboards. A candle placed on the vast, richly-toned wooden reading table in front of her provided the only other source of light in the room. There were stacks of leather bound tomes piled high in every corner and on the desk...well, it may have looked a mess but Morgana had a system and it was working! She was sure of it...perhaps..._

_ It was while lost in some volume of ancient charms that a light tap came from the dense oak door. At the witch's bidding the door opened and in-stepped one of Morgause's servants. Morgana had seen her before dotting about between the kitchen and the great hall but she knew nothing about the young slip of a girl standing before her who, at that moment, looked as though she wished the ground would open up and swallow her. _

_ "Please ma'am, the elder mistress thought you might be hungry"_

_ She had the accent of a girl from the countryside and there was a slight stammer in the girl's speech that somehow merely served to make her incredibly endearing. Though it hardly seemed so today there had been a time in Morgana's life when she, herself, had been as painfully shy as that. She nodded;_

_ "Truth be told, I am a little but..."_

_ The girl smiled as from somewhere behind the doorway she produced a silver tray amassed with various little treats and morsels. Morgana's bashful smile matched her own;_

_ "Ah...well, yes. How did you know I was down here?" She thought she had been so careful when making her way down through the desolate corridors and stairways._

_ "The Mistress...the elder Mistress...well...she suggested you might be down here"._

_ Once again the dark-haired witch was amazed by her sister's seemingly endless inner-knowledge. She wondered if she would ever attain that same level of intuition or would she be forever bumbling about in what she believed very average ability. She could never see within herself the skills that Morgause apparently saw in her. She remembered there was a serving girl in-front of her still awaiting some form of instruction;_

_ "Why don't you sit down...em...err..." She cocked her head to the side, implying the question, embarrassed she did not already know the girl's name. _

_ "Alastrine, Miss...and thank you Miss but I couldn't." she blushed as she set the tray down beside a pile of texts and parchments on the table, standing back, her eyes trailed down towards her feet. "Will that be all My Lady?"_

_ Morgana absently nodded her dismissal. She supposed that it was not strictly proper to be asking servants to sit with her but she so desperately missed having someone to talk to. She could not remember ever feeling so lonely. _

_ Still, she saw Alastrine several times afterwards and each time the conversations lasted just a little longer. Soon enough Morgana had managed to coax the shy maid out of her shell and found that she rather liked the nervous but entirely sweet young girl. _

By the time she came out of her reverie Morgana was entering her chambers and found that her bath-tub had been brought out and placed in front of the fire, steam rising in delicate spectral swirls that made dancing patterns through the air. The now-familiar footsteps of Aelwyd came up behind her, almost presumptuously starting to remove her mistresses' armour. The plates came off easily enough under her nimble fingers but when she went to remove the Queen's hauberk the rings were stiff and unrelenting, much like the woman's body underneath it;

"My Lady, the mail does not come easily, you may need to lift your arms"

Morgana, who's mind had begun to drift once more snapped back into herself again. Obediently she lifted her tired arms and allowed the maid to remove the chain-mail coat. It had been Morgause's armour previously and though it had been a well-worn and decidedly battered she wore it as her own. As strange as seemed, as soon as the dark-haired witch had slipped the tattered metal guard onto her own body it fitted perfectly, as though the very essence of her sister surrounded her in a protective shroud.

Her skin flushed as she realised that it was the young maiden's fingers working over her own slim form that had made her mind wander. As Aelwyd removed Morgana's light linen shirt the only thing the Queen felt was shame. It was a betrayal of everything she had promised to Morgause...but it just felt so good to have some sort of human contact again. She had been dressed and changed by Aelwyd before but somehow this was different. Perhaps it was only the reflective mood she was in but somehow...somehow there was an intimacy, a familiarity that was not there before. She wasn't sure she liked it but the response of her body was entirely involuntary. She turned;

"Thank you Aelwyd, I can manage from here."

The young serving girl smiled awkwardly and gave a discreet bob, barely concealing the gaze of her eye over the lithe shape in front of her before making a swift exit. With that, Morgana, eased herself gently into the bath. Closing her eyes she pictured a face in front of her, a reserved smile made from narrow, pink lips. Looking along a line upwards she found a delicately sloping nose, framed with two very beautiful, penetrating gold-hazel eyes and the whole visage surrounded by shining blonde curls. She remember the calloused-yet-gentle hands that came with the face, the light, graceful touches the fingers imparted. As Morgana lay there in the warm water somehow her own fingers did not compare to the memory of a thousand earlier caresses. The heat of the bath could not slake the chills that racked her body when the sobs came crashing over her.

Later that evening as Morgana slid between the sheets her thoughts turned to the day ahead. Tomorrow would be the start of the tournament. How _would _she fare? Well, she had trained long and hard, what else could she do? Her eyes closed and allowed a fitful sleep to overtake her.

Merlin turned to his former master as their horses trekked along the expanse of dirt-track through the woods. They had been on the road for two days now and even the exuberant sorcerer had run out of things to say. Arthur was in one of his impossibly determined moods.

"Arthur, are you _sure _this is a good idea"

"Merlin for the one-hundredth time, yes and shut-up! Why the hell did I decide to bring you with me?" The former prince continued to mutter away to himself for the remainder of the journey. Gwen had elected to stay behind to supervise the building of Arthur's new project. Eventually it had come to light that the young warrior had elected to start some type of training school by re-using the already-ancient hill fort he had come across while stalking through his new territory. He had "conscripted" several locals to help re-build the ruined fortifications. In-truth, Merlin actually thought the "warrior training school" was a good idea- not that he would ever tell Arthur that but he still could not get his head around the young man's ridiculous plan of going to the Camelot tournaments. What was the point in recruiting young lads from the other side of the country when there were plenty of youths around the area they now called home? Mind you, Merlin had often believed Arthur had some sort of death-wish, now he knew it.

**To be continued?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well the story does seem to be getting read and I think I've finally figured out where I want this to go so without further ado...**

**Chapter Four**

The burnished copper tendrils of flame from the camp fire shot high up into the air, twisting and writhing like lovers or the exotic dancing girls he'd heard about from the East but it was not the wild sparks that held Merlin's attention as his gaze absently delved into the bright blaze. Instead, within the red heat came images; there was a woman with dark hair, a circular, turreted crown being placed upon her head...then...a man, his face distorted, though he looked a bit like Arthur; about the same height and build with the same hay-coloured hair but he somehow seemed older.

A snort from said young man brought Merlin tumbling back into himself from his seer's daze, grinning as he looked across and saw Arthur rolling over and muttering loudly in his sleep. He couldn't quite make-out what the former prince was saying but whatever it was sounded ridiculous enough to make the young wizard chuckle, shaking his head. Still, sleep _was_ probably a good idea; they'd have an early rise in the morning and the last thing he needed was to end up falling asleep on horseback- he'd done that before with the effect of unwittingly riding for half and hour upside down before being woken up by the blood thundering in his ears. Mind you, that clot-pole of an Arthur had just left him there!

Meanwhile, half a day's ride away someone else was having a restless night...

Morgana tossed and turned in the darkness of her chambers. Her mind was full of strange disjointed images that made no sense. In brief moments of awareness she told herself it was only nerves for the coming days but when the elusive dream did come to her she found she was full of anger at the subject of the dream. An anger she did not realise she had been carrying.

Just as she had many times before Morgause had come to meet the young Queen on the edge of sleep and as usual she took Morgana to the place they loved down by the lake that marked the boundary the blonde's estate. It was always the same whenever they came here together, the trees a more vibrant green than memory would ever permit and the sweet scent of the honeysuckle that trailed its way up the stone walls of the castle reached the dark-haired witch's nose. It was a place where the young woman normally felt at peace but for some reason this night she felt only agitation. A hush descended over the pair as they walked the grounds, Morgause allowing the younger woman the chance to talk of whatever was on her mind while Morgana hadn't a clue as to how to even begin voicing the myriad of emotions coursing through her. Eventually the silence became deafening and Morgause took the other woman's hand lightly in her own, speaking up first;

"I came to wish you well for tomorrow, I have been watching you train." She allowed a small smile of pride to grace her narrow lips, "you have made me so very proud, Morgana...and my armour fits you well" she added ruefully.

The mention of those solid, protective plates of metal that her sister had worn so proudly made something snap inside Morgana, wrenching her hand away her response was an explosive torrent of fear, anger, hurt and overwhelming loss as she turned to face the blonde, the cauldron of months of stock-piled emotion bubbled up behind her eyes and spilled out in streaks down her face;

"Luck? Armour? I would not be doing this at all if it had not been for you! You knew all too well what was about to happen when we entered Camelot..." she crumpled to the ground, her thick emerald cloak pooling around her, giving shelter to her now chilled frame and her voice became no more than a fragile whisper, "...you left me, you left me Morgause! Now you stand there wishing me luck..." her voice suddenly regaining strength as the the last waves of fury left her, leaving behind only an empty weariness.

Morgause simply stood there staring at the woman who had now collapsed into the soft earth beneath, allowing the cool soil to absorb the remaining hurt. Morgana was right. Who was she to interfere in the life of her sister priestess who was now Queen and Lady of Avalon in her own right? She had abandoned that life, left behind the woman she loved even though she knew that she had had no choice in the matter. The blonde at least had the good grace to look abashed, her head now taking a keen interest in her feet, blades of dew-covered grass gathering around the soles of her calf-length leather boots.

With no words forming in her mind, Morgause stepped around the younger woman, leaving a distraught Morgana to believe she had left but a moment later the young woman felt the heat of another at her back. After an initial resistance the dark-haired Queen allowed herself to melt into the strong form supporting her from behind. As the older woman sensed the other gradually yielding she deftly trailed her fingers over the young woman's torso, the same caresses that seemed so lifeless and dull when Morgana had performed them herself now sent tremors rippling throughout her body.

Morgause dipped down to Morgana's ear, hot breath vibrating against the witch's ear, her voice was musical and her tone hushed but the power behind the simple words was unmistakeable;

"you see, I have not gone far, my love."

The young Queen took a sudden sharp breath as she realised that the blonde had actually been watching her as she lay soaking in her bath earlier that evening. With practised ease the blonde's fingers slipped along the folds of the witch's gown, her final words to the young woman being ones of disconsolate resignation;

"Never feel shamed or guilty at your desires, my love. I may not be there but do not reject others out of turn. Do not chose to remain alone because of me."

Morgana cried out as she awoke, praying that none of the servants could hear her. The last thing she wanted was any of them dashing into her chambers believing their Queen in distress. Having said that, they were well-used to her midnight visions by now and no one came. Morgana didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Her dreams had become more and more frequent, the magic of her Healing Bracelet having died with Morgause.

Still, the brightness of dawn broke through the thin veil of curtain bringing a riot of colour into the room as it refracted in the various charms and crystals set on the Queen's dresser and table. _But it was dark last I remember...surely I have not been asleep all this time? Perhaps I was in Annwn. They say that time moves differently in the land of Faerie. Ah well, this speculation shall have to wait. _

There was a long day ahead and when the Queen emerged from her bedchamber suddenly the whole palace seemed bustling with activity. Maids were scurrying back and forth along the corridors carrying great bales of linen for the more distinguished guests that would be staying within the palace. Other servants were similarly burdened with trays of fruits as well as large pitchers and goblets for wine. The silverware was gleaming, intricately detailed with beautiful scroll-work it was the finest to be had in the court of Camelot. Aelwyd trailed behind the queen along with a youthful lad that Morgana had chosen to be her own squire, heavy-laden with the dense plates of armour soon to be adorning the lithe form in front of him.

The young Queen was perfectly calm as the trio meandered their way down the path to the armoury, all lesser beings jostling to clear her way. Even as her attendants prepared her for the coming battles she focused solely on breathing. It was only when the hefty, gated doors swung open to reveal the blinding sun that the beating in her chest became a wild fluttering. Panic struck her as the enormity of what lay before her became suddenly real but she pressed on, entering the new tournament arena that had been specially-built for its new purpose. It had been somewhat conspicuously tacked onto the back wall of the armoury, positively Romanesque in its architecture but still with a very traditional Celtic-British look.

As the High-Priestess cum Queen entered the rounded pitch the assembled crowds went wild with delight, whether at the prospect of her fighting skills or at the thought of seeing their Lady receiving a thorough trouncing she couldn't tell but either way she had always loved the adoration of the people and that had not changed.

The armour moved easily as she strode in all her stately grace to the centre of the field, turning around, surveying the mass that had now subdued to a hush, avidly straining to hear the words of this truly impressive majesty. She smiled. Yes, her public loved her and now she would show them that their love was not misplaced. She would show them how a true monarch reigned. Her words were simple and to the point;

"Let the games commence."

A public relieved to not have to sit through any of the ridiculously long speeches of Uther cheered and howled in wild enraptures.

Hidden in the gap between two stands lurked Arthur and Merlin. They had made it just in time to see the opening "ceremony" by the performing druids and bards. Arthur, himself, could not believed the sight that greeted him this first return to Camelot. _Indeed, _he thought, _my father must be turning in his grave. _Soon enough, they were moving freely through the various camps and simpler tents of the competitors, both druid and knight. Sparks shot up into the air beyond the wall of the Arena, there would be no fighting today, only great displays, magicians and bardic song. This was not the 'shining city' that Arthur had grown up in, the fight for Camelot was now well and truly lost. There would be feasting in the Great Hall for all the competitors with the Queen, herself, as the host but that was one step too far. He could not present himself to her now, not in this glaring defeat of all his father had fought to build.

**To be continued anyone?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

If the opening festivities in the arena had been spectacular then the "Tournament Dinner" in that evening for the competitors as well as the invited Lords & Ladies was simply breathtaking. No expense had been spared in this grand show of wealth and power. If Morgana had to prove her competence as a strong ruler then she would do it in style! Bright crimson, lustrous drapes provided luxurious frames to the tall windows that lined the room, magicians performed tricks for the amusement of the Ladies and fire-eaters swallowed giant flaming torches dazzled of the assembled Knights while Lords feigned a casual disinterest in such entertainments. Jesters and jugglers that the Queen had summoned from far off lands moved easily through the crowds. It truly was a sight to be held with the ladies radiant in their magnificent and the warriors in well-polished armour followed by squires that carried colourful banners but the Queen stood out above all others in the Great Hall.

Morgana was accustomed to all eyes turning to her when she came into a room, blessed by beauty and a bearing of unmistakeable grace but on this night, even with the huge flock of nobility that had flooded through the vast space a hush descended upon her entrance. She was not sure if it was the dress she had chosen that left such a bewitching effect on her 'audience' or if it was herself but she revelled in the adoration and wonder that she felt coming towards her in thick waves.

The gown Morgana had chosen was made of magic, woven by the faeries that lived by the realm of Avalon. The delicate tones shimmered from turquoise to purple and accents of silver shone through the cloth though no precious metal of man could create such a sparkle. On the narrow body that showed the young woman's athletic form to the best advantage and on the swathes of fine cloth that dropped from her arms were emblazoned swirling designs in the Celtic style. The magical symbols glowed like the embers of a fire that danced and swayed as Her Majesty walked. Surely it was only the light that was catching strands of thread? The dress had an otherworldly quality that seemed to surround the Queen of its own accord, satisfied to be worn by such a figure which only gave the Lady of the Lake an added aura of mystery...and allure.

Despite the attention she had drawn, Morgana was acutely aware of one particular pair of eyes boring intensely into her back. She allowed herself a sly grin at the thought of the servant that was trailing sedately behind her. She was not yet entirely comfortable with the idea of welcoming another into her bed but being the object of desire was a thing to be relished.

She stood at the front of the large platform at the head of the hall, her blue-green eyes scanning the faces that waited avidly for the word of the Queen then in a voice that somehow resounded throughout the cavernous expanse she spoke. _What was it that gave this young woman so_ _much power?_ It was a derisive thought that crossed through the mind of one young man that lurked beside his former master as the two stood in the shadows by the colossal doors at the other end of the reception. Even Arthur seemed mesmerised by the words being spoken;

My Lords and Ladies, esteemed Priests and Priestesses and Knights of the land. You are welcome to Camelot, my home. The reign of Uther Pendragon made enemies of you all but now I ask you here as friends. No longer will anyone be persecuted for their accent or their religion. Tyranny will have no place in my kingdom. I know I have yet to prove my worth as a leader you but for now I invite each and every one of you to enjoy the hospitality that the new Camelot has to offer." Now with the sombre part of her welcoming speech over she broke into a disarming smile, "here's to a good tournament and cementing alliances. Let the feast begin!".

The Queen led the way into the adjoining chamber where seemingly endless tables stretched out before them, groaning under the weight of bountiful trenchers loaded with fish and spit-roasted meats. The mixture of scent from the large pitchers of wine and the heady aroma of herbs and spices was nothing short of intoxicating. As the ornate oak chair was pulled back for her Morgana saluted her guests with a raise of her polished silver goblet. The congregated guests each raised their own in a toast to the new monarch of Camelot and the truly wise Lady of Avalon. As soon as the Queen sat the musicians in the Gallery began their lively tunes, nearly drowned out entirely by the cacophony of voices below.

Meanwhile two figures had not joined the gaggle of Lords & Ladies for the great banquet. Spellbound, Arthur had begun to follow the crowd before Merlin had shaken the former prince out of his dazed stupor, pulling him firmly away from the influence of Camelot's captivating new ruler. In the cold night air Arthur bent as he coughed, feeling as though he had been woken from some deep sleep. Coming to his senses he managed a spluttering;

"What...was **that**?"

Merlin shook his head;

"I dunno, you seemed...well...I dunno"

"Well thank you for clearing that up for me Merlin, whatever would I do without you" came the flat response.

"Well...everyone else seemed the same. I mean, did you **see** that dress? It has to be some kind of magic...m-mind control, that's what it is!"

"Merlin, I do not succumb to magic. It was...well, womanly wiles?" Arthur, clicked his fingers triumphantly, pointing at his sidekick, "it must have been".

"_Then why was I not affected?" _the young warlock said almost to himself as he ran through his thoughts out-loud but Arthur had heard him;

"Well let's face it Merlin, you wouldn't know what to do with her!" The former prince's reply was typical and Merlin had learned to shrug them off as he became better at giving as good as he got but he was too disturbed to argue tonight. _Just this once_, the wicked thought came.

The banquet had carried on into the early hours of the morning and Morgana was exhausted as she trailed up the stone steps that would eventually bring her to her private quarters. She had been trying her best all evening to play the perfect hostess, willing a connection to those who lived under her and those who would provide useful alliances. Easing herself into bed it suddenly occurred to her that if she was exhausted how must her serving maid Aelwyd be working so hard to make sure all ran smoothly for her mistress all night? Morgana was not a monster. She summoned the young woman through and in an instant she appeared. The Queen noted the dark circles under the other girl's eyes and the tight lines around her mouth. She flushed as she became suddenly aware of her own state of undress, albeit under the nest of fur and sheets and flushed even deeper as further thoughts came to her. She never stammered in public addresses so why should she be so flustered when dealing with a simple maid?

"Aelwyd, why do you not take tomorrow off? I am in the ring tomorrow and will manage perfectly well with my squire."

Morgana had never seen Aelwyd appear so suddenly shy and humbled. She decided it did not suit the young maiden at all.

"Miss, you are very kind. I shall take you up on your offer if that is acceptable." and she gave a slight bob for good measure.

Now the Queen was suddenly the shy one;

"I would not have offered otherwise." she managed a slight smile, looking away before continuing, "you should sleep here tonight, there is a servant's annex just through there." Now that the glamour of the evening had been stripped away she suddenly felt naked and under the gaze of this strong character, very, very exposed.

"Begging your pardon My Lady but I should not indulge on your hospitality any longer."

The dark-haired witch was taken-aback and surprised to find she felt a disappointment tugging at her chest. In a hoarse voice she gave her assent for the girl to leave;

"I only thought...it would save you going home at this late hour." but in a forced jollity she continued, not willing to let the other girl see the hurt she felt, "I suppose if you want to make the most of your day off tomorrow then that is probably best."

Aelwyd gave another small bob and traipsed wearily from the room, totally unaware that the young Queen who, all night, had seemed so powerful was now curling herself up into a tight ball, willing the tears to stop tumbling down her face, her cries forcibly hushed as she whispered over and over to herself;

"_why Morgause? Why did you do this to me? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?"_

Little did she know that in the dark corner of the chamber a shadow also wept for the living who would never hear.

**Shall I continue?**


	6. Chapter 6

**For those of you who have made it with me thus far, thank you all for reading. Feedback is always very welcome and really does help so if you feel like letting me know your thoughts on the story please do.**

**Chapter 6**

The whole of Camelot clattered to the sound of sparring- the tournament's first day was now well and truly under way and in the main arena our Lady's match was nearing it's end;

_ Block, parry, block, block, parry. _Things were not going to plan but Morgana could not afford to lose this match..._not now!_ She had been wounded once already, a large gash that cut across her thigh, deep into her flesh and she felt faint as the warm blood seeped down her leg, soaking the combat breeches in which she was clad.

"Oof!"

She was slammed back into the red-painted fencing that both outlined the ring and kept the crowds at bay. Her opponent had given her a solid blow to the gut, taking the breath from her body while a wave of nausea came crashing over her but worse still, the spectators were going wild each time she took a hit- this young lad had brought his followers with him!

The Knight in question was a new one she had never seen compete before. He hailed from somewhere in the North and spoke with an accent she couldn't place. Well, spoke after a fashion- right now all she heard were the great cries he gave every time he hefted the weighty blade above his head to bring it crashing down onto her.

Drawing on every last reserve the dark-haired witch had within she called on a strength she had not used in as many months since. _Lunge, thrust, thrust, slash, lunge. _Yes, she was actually knocking him back! The cheering gallery erupted into mass hysteria! She was steadily beating him backwards to the far end of the arena before knocking the knight's blade out of his hand with a sharp blow to his wrist and kicking it away. She threw herself forward, using her entire body weight and the sheer denseness of Morgause's armour to knock him to the ground. Then it was over. He fell flat to the ground with a great puff of the sawdust underneath, gazing up at her with wide blue eyes that she could just make out through the slit in his visor. The tip of the young Queen's blade settled upon the man's throat before lifting it with a lightness of ease which belied her current condition. She flicked the point upwards and lowered her hand, inviting the stranger to his feet. After all, she was nothing if not a merciful queen!

She removed her helmet to congratulate her opponent on a bravely-fought bout. The young man was gracious enough but under the veneer his teeth clenched and his jaw was set firmly. The Queen was satisfied. She had little use for warriors who accepted defeat with ease. One day, she hoped, he would use his bravery for Camelot. She would be in-touch with him soon enough, thinking it wise to let his rage at losing to a slip of a girl cool before trying to negotiate terms.

Using her sword as a kind of crutch she limped back to the Armouries while behind her the knight was greeted by an old man with thinning ashen hair and dressed in a well-worn long red robe that fastened at the neck. After confirming that the worst the young man had suffered was a dented ego and a bruised hand where Morgana's clout had sent his sword flying from his grip the ageing form lumbered off after the retreating woman, his round medicine bag swinging wildly from his shoulder in his struggle to catch up.

Once inside the safe darkness of the underground Armoury the Queen was free to slump heavily onto the nearest bench with a great huff. Gaius knelt before her, staring worriedly up into the tired face that loomed above him. Morgana was beyond doubt a rare beauty but the toll of the last few months was beginning to make itself known. Narrow lines had started to form at the corners of her mouth & between her eyebrows and the normally creamy skin around her eyes had taken on a decidedly dark tinge. The worst of it was she would never think to ask for help or perhaps it was simply that given her position she did not think she could.

_Too much like her father, _he thought wryly to himself as he considered how long the two of them had battled against each other, chafing under their numerous similarities then coming to blows because of their differences. He was brought from his musings by a strained voice;

"What can I do for you Gaius?"

"It is what I can do for you, My Lady. You must let me tend to your wound or it may become infected."

The young Queen turned away in something akin to disgust.

"Then let it infect" the tone was not of anger but despair, something which was somehow more disturbing than the fury she had shown in times past. It was true that she should have been celebrating her victory but she felt sick, wretched even and could think of nothing but the fool she had made of herself the night before. Throwing herself at a servant girl indeed!

The old man didn't know what to think but risking regal wrath he finished the task of removing the greaves from her shins, something the Queen's squire had begun until Gaius had waived him away. As the tight leather bands were untied and the constrictive metal plates were taken away Morgana's flesh began to breathe, causing a fresh stab of pain to shoot its way up her leg making her yelp in response but otherwise she made no further protest as the veteran surgeon removing the saturated breeches.

He had looked after her since she had first arrived in Camelot as a little girl and probably knew her reactions better than she did herself. It was with practised skill that he stopped himself from wincing as the young woman's wound was revealed. The enemy blade had taken a great gouge from her thigh, she would be off her feet for weeks. She would not see the tournament out.

In the stands of the main arena, disguised under heavy cloaks Arthur and Merlin looked on. Arthur had made it through his first challenge earlier that day, winning with ease and pleased that the early start gave him the rest of the day to scout for new warriors. Morgana had almost been handed a humiliating defeat, much to the surprise of both of them- apparently the Lady of Avalon would not be using magic to win her tournament. Still, the former Prince could not deny he had taken a liking to this new knight- offers would be made! Merlin had made various protests- mainly based on the feral-like look of the man but the discussion had ended when Arthur pointed out that anyone who had no qualms about dealing the new Queen such a death match had to be worth a look. In any case, the wizard's mind had turned elsewhere since laying eyes upon the hunched form of his former mentor.

While the rest of them had fled Camelot in fear of their lives Gaius had elected to stay behind. Despite Merlin's protestations the old physician had been adamant. He claimed he was duty bound to follow the wishes of the departed King and to do what he could to ease the city's transition through this difficult time but the truth of the matter was he had felt himself too old to go trekking halfway across the country to who-knew-where!

As Merlin watched him hobbling along after Morgana though, it occurred to him that Gaius was looking older than ever and he wondered exactly how hard the new Mistress of Camelot had him working? Morgana had good reason to despise the man who had nearly killed her sister the previous year and kept her own parentage a secret from her. To her, he embodied the perfect symbol of a traitor- one of magic who still sided with the King during the Great Purge. Merlin knew that was only half the truth but how much did Morgana know? He longed to call after the old man, talk to him even if only for a moment but he couldn't and now Arthur was pulling him away to go chasing after his latest target.

Late that evening after she had been bandaged up Morgana lay wakeful in bed, consumed by an agony that ripped through her limbs and echoed in her chest. Her lithe body was covered by a light sheen of cold perspiration. Gaius had cleaned the wound of all dirt but the terror that was gripping her now and made her tremble had nothing to do with cuts in the flesh. She just couldn't take it any longer. She could not get used to the other side of the bed feeling so cold and empty- could not get used to the loneliness. She wanted to cry even though she had no tears left inside but a knock at the door cut through the anguish. The dark-haired witch refused to answer, refused to let anyone see her like this. The person on the other side obviously did not feel that admittance was necessary and the door opened.

"My Lady?"

The voice was familiar but abnormally quiet. Aelwyd stepped into the room and gaped at the sight before her. There on the bed lay her Queen, the covers tossed aside and what remained was the near-naked, perfectly formed yet sadly weakened figure. All that covered the young woman's modesty was some very flimsy underwear, albeit very luxurious underwear. She took another step into the room and eased herself down, the mattress creaking under her weight as she sat. Lifting the cloth from the woman's night stand she dipped the rag into the bowl of cool water next to it and pressed it gently to her mistresses' brow.

"I came to see how you were after your injury. Are you in pain My Lady?"

The fragile whisper that came as response was faint but definite;

"Go, Aelwyd. Leave me."

But the serving girl remained where she was, her hand still holding the cloth to the other woman's forehead. At any other time Morgana may have been grateful for the attentive company or would have at least been gracious enough to thank her for it but right now the only person she wanted was not here and never would be. When the maid still gave no sign of moving the Queen sat up, throwing away the cloth, staring at the girl with wild eyes wherein there pulsed a clouds of magic that swirled and writhed like snakes ready to be unleashed. It was the effect of a cornered animal and the rage that flooded from her cry would have blasted the young girl from the room had she not already backed off.

With the door now closed to anyone who would dare disturb the witch Morgana sighed back into the bedding, her body now truly spent of its reserves. Her eyes closed of their own accord and she allowed herself to drift off into a fitful doze but at sometime during the night she could have sworn she felt a hand lightly caress her forehead. She would feel no more until late the next morning.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello readers,**

** well, have been sat having a think and _Price of a Kingdom_ doesn't seem to be getting the same response as _Recovering Magic_ and I don't know if it's because the story doesn't work or my writing's just not up to scratch although people do seem to be reading the story still so I'm going to give this chapter a go and see how we get on but _Kingdom _may not continue.**

**Chapter Seven**

The next morning found Morgana sitting at the large oak dresser that lay in all its stately grandeur under the window ledge. Sunlight shone brightly through the casement, warming the young woman's face and making her smile. For a little while, at least, she was quite content to watch the busy to-ings and fro-ings of the servants in the square below. She had been awake since dawn, electing to watch the Sun make his sleepy ascent over the horizon bringing a spectacular burst of colour to the mysterious dark the Moon reigned over. It was only while witnessing this everyday miracle of nature that she remembered the prayer that Morgause had taught her during her training. The older Priestess had encouraged her to say it every morning as they rose to exercise as well as the corresponding prayer to the Lady when they retired at night. A trip to Avalon was due; she would go as soon as the tournament was over. She missed the easy peace of the lapping waters and the affectionate company of Isilda and little Alastrine.

A knock at the door reminded the Queen of the mission she had given her Squire early that morning;

"Come in Coel"

The young squire entered, still appearing nervous within the witch's presence despite having been in the Queen's service these many months now. He was slight of build but already Morgana could see a difference when she thought of the small, boyish lad that had first been presented to her as a suitable candidate for training. One of the knights had noticed his natural ability with blade in-hand while taking a ride through the some of the outlying villages. Initially when she had taken him on he had had the dietary habits of a sparrow but gradually, as he became accustomed to courtly life he gained more confidence, started eating well and the more he handled the Lady's bits of armour and weaponry the more defined his arms grew with Morgana coming to view him as one of the more useful members of the household. Now, however, he looked almost as anxious as he had on their first meeting;

"My Lady, I come bearing...unfortunate news."

"Sir Derryth refused my offer?"

The Queen's expression was incredulous to say the least. She had sent Coel out to the tavern in the lower town where some of the less wealthy competitors had been staying for the duration, there to impress the youth who had wounded her the day before, giving a more than worthy performance despite the knowledge that he was battling the Queen of Camelot herself. She had believed, quite rightly, that her proposed income as well as the generous benefits that would come with the post of 'Knight of Camelot' should be more than enough to tempt any up-and-coming man to lay his allegiance _and his sword _with this most powerful of rulers.

"That's correct My Lady." The fair-haired Coel looked up as if trying to dredge some great knowledge from the depths of his mind and spoke slowly, making sure to get his little speech out properly; "he said...to tell you...that...he...sends his regrets but was...was...was approached by another man...with a very..._now what was it, oh yes, _a very attractive offer." He allowed himself one little nod of satisfaction on conveying his part without error but the look of his mistress' face made him quake and look at the floor.

The reply that came was icy. While Coel knew that Morgana's ire was not directed at himself he could not help but feel as though he was about the bear the brunt of the regal wrath he had heard about from some of the other...more native servants. "Did Sir Derryth tell you who had made this offer?"

It was a simple enough question but the intent behind it was full of venom. Only then did the poor man realise the exact implications of what he had told the raven-haired Lady. Someone was poaching fighters, perhaps to rally an opposing force...perhaps a force against Camelot and they were doing it right under the Queen's nose in _her _tournament! Surely the sheer embarrassment would be too much to take if the news came out. The city was not weak but its young ruler was untested, an unknown quantity- if ever there were to be an attack on Uther's shining city, now would be the time- the very reason said ruler was doing everything in her Earthly power to cement alliances. Unwittingly Coel affected a stutter that had gradually been lost over time spent in his new home;

"Well, M-miss...I d-did ask him that, on account of I thought you'd l-like to k-know. He said only that the m-m-man's name was a Sir Cadeyrn."

The Queen merely nodded and looked strange, gazing off into a distance that apparently only she could see. Absently waving him away the young lad concealed his relief at being dismissed admirably while Morgana turned in her chair to stare deep into the small mirror on the dresser, desperately searching for answers. When none were forthcoming she slumped forward, allowing the heavy timber to absorb her weight. Her mind became lost in some sort of daze, possibly the throbbing wound was making her dizzy or possibly her head had simply taken in all it could. Moments, minutes, it could have even been hours but her awareness peaked when a soft and musical voice floated above her;

"Morgana..." it came gently at first but became more insistent at the lack of response- after all, had she not come all this way at her daughter's summoning? She was damned if she was going to be ignored now, "Morgana!"

At the sudden shout the young witch jumped and looked up before grabbing the small mirror. The face that looked back at her was not her own but still, she recognised the reflection instantly;

"Mother! I am so sorry I have not looked for you before, I just...I..."

"You have been letting your magic slip"

The reply was not quite what the young woman had been expecting and she was momentarily taken aback but her Mother's almost terse response. She did, however, have the good grace to look abashed- after all, her the other woman was only speaking the truth.

"My Daughter, I do not have much time. I have come to warn you, your suspicions do not deceive you; someone is indeed working against you. You must be cautious. Your sister and I are working together to try and help you but you must tread carefully- you have an enemy in Camelot."

Morgana could only nod, totally unaware that she had even had such suspicions but supposed that since her Mother had known about them then she must have! She regarded the older woman closely; the fine lines, the narrow lips that she had seen create such beautiful smiles...a perfect mixture of herself and her sister and told her Mother the only thing that came to mind, "I miss you", tracing the delicate features just as she had done so many times before when getting to know Morgause's and recognising something of herself in them.

"I know my darling girl and the sooner you return to the safety of Avalon the better- there you can be protected by the same magic that protects the Island itself." then the mists that had been threatening from the edges of the glass began to cloud the image, blurring Viviane's face. "Morgana, I must go, I am losing the connection. Stay safe my darling girl."

Then she was gone.

Morgana, left alone with her thoughts began to ponder this mysterious Sir Cadeyrn. It was an ancient name that meant 'Battle King'. Surely it could be no coincidence- the name must have been chosen by the user...

**To be continued? You tell me...**


	8. Chapter 8

** Back by popular demand, ha ha ha! Before I start this chapter I'd maybe like to just mention a wee point that's been brought to my attention so firstly a special thanks to Rtms for your kind insights. It seems that maybe the problem with this story is the fact that I'm not showing Morgana as the ultimate evil. If you prefer to see her as this evil character then that's grand because that's how the show portrays her. Arthur and Merlin are the good guys and Morgana and Morgause are the bad guys, right? Hmm, well maybe. All I'm trying to do is tell a story more from Morgana's stand point because I do really like her and Morgause's characters. Of course, from Arthur and Merlin's point she would be evil because she stands as their enemy but if you sit and think about it, Morgana & Morgause probably believe they're in the right throughout the series- seeing themselves as bringing the Old Religion back into the world and justice to those persecuted by Uther. Not much different to the Marion Zimmer Bradley book _Mists of Avalon _where the more traditional Arthur story is told through the eyes of Morgaine instead of through Arthur.**

** According to the traffic updates you are still out there reading the story and I am so grateful to you all and really hope you're enjoying it but please do let me know what you're thinking because if I don't know how you feel about the story I can't improve on it or take it in the direction you'd like it to go. **

** I have finally figured out where this story is going and have started writing the closing chapters so for those of you have been keeping up with the story, stay with me, I will try not to disappoint you. In the meantime, the plot thickens in Camelot...**

**Chapter Eight**

_Less than impressed _would be about the kindest way of describing Arthur's mood as he and Merlin trudged their way through the muddy streets of the lower town the very same day that Morgana had received her grim message. Setting out in the early hours of the morning and styling himself Sir Pellinore -the name of an old family friend whom Morgana would not remember- to entice skilled fighters to join his cause. His first 'catch of the day' was to be Sir Derryth, the knight who had given Morgana a good run for her kingdom, approaching him only to find that _"someone else" _had gotten there first! He had picked up a few good prospects throughout the remainder of the morning but frustratingly just as many had already made commitments elsewhere.

"Damn that Morgana!" came the incredulous curses at each spluttering slip in the sodden ground. "Stealing bloody knights for herself like that! As if she needs anymore!"

Merlin bit his lip, dare he say it? "But...isn't that what we're doing?" He knew it was cheeky, he knew it would earn him a clout about the head but the pleasure of pointing out the obvious to his former master was never lost on the boyish wizard.

_Thump!_

"That's not the point Merlin!"

Arthur stalked off, muttering away to himself. He had a match to get to but after traipsing around the town on such a damp day he was in dire need of a bath and a change of clothes- sometimes he really did miss being prince of his own kingdom, in those days he could send Merlin out to do all the donkey-work!

The lower town could be full of shady characters, noticeable only if one went peeking into the doorways and crevasses that lined the narrow streets. Shame really, if Arthur and Merlin had paid more attention to the city's darker corners they may have just glimpsed the surreptitious gaze that followed them with discreet fascination...

Back in her ivory tower the Queen paced absently about her chambers. She didn't know how many days had passed since she had shut the door to the rest of the world that first night after being injured but she knew the tournament was nearing its end with the final match planned for later that afternoon. She had refused admittance to any and all visitors, even to Gaius who badly needed to check and change the dressing still wrapped tightly around her thigh. She had been frustrated and angry with herself at not being fit to compete through the rest of the tourney as it was but her Mother's visitation had served to make her paranoid as well. Meals were to be placed outside the entrance on a tray, jugs of water for washing likewise and a thick layer of dust coated the furniture where the maids had not been allowed to clean. Her anxious footsteps made a harsh noise, clicking _back and forth, back and forth, back and forth_ over the hardwood floor. It was only through the corner of her eye during this frantic marching that she caught the commotion in the square below. She halted and opened the window just wide enough to catch some of the words being shouted from man to man as figures ran to and fro carrying messages, something about one of the competitors not turning up for the final but no-matter how hard she strained her ears she could not quite grasp the full story. She spun around and took the swift two steps to the doorway, whipping it open and grabbing the nearest servant. Her eyes were wild both from the isolation and from fear that the event which was to be her crowning achievement may suddenly be going awry. Never mind the fact that the she was already the subject of much speculation and idle gossip for shutting herself away for so long. The secretive, wicked sorceress who was to be heard talking to unknown persons in her lonely chambers in the middle of the night and scaring the wits out of loyal servants...

"What in the name of the Goddess is going on out there?" she demanded, her voice perhaps sounding a little harder than she had intended.

"Please ma'am, I don't right know, all I do know is that one of the knights has pulled out 'f the contest. I don't know any more'an that Miss, honest I don't!"

The mild terror on the young woman's face at being seized by the kingdom's mystical mistress forced Morgana to reign in her emotions, desperately seeking the calm level-headedness she had spent all those months trying to master. She let go of the girl and made an effort to give at least the impression of sanity even though her insides were turning like a butter churn. She gave a nervous nod to the maid and stalked off, only half-aware of where she was going. The whole world seemed distant and unreal, as if she were only looking at a reflection in a mirror or watching through the tiny waves in a goblet of wine. Her heart raced and the bright stone walls swam across her vision but her feet still moved of their own accord.

She felt better when she came out into the fresh air and took a great lungful of the clean scents that surrounded her. The fresh hay in the stables, the trace of roasted meats being prepared for the evening feast and the overall pervading redolence of the woodland that surrounded Camelot itself. It was soothing, comforting. Why _had _she locked herself away like that? _Foolish girl, _she thought to herself. When would she learn? She had enforced isolation onto herself in the past after Morgause had been taken from her and had near driven herself insane. She needed to be out in the world, sharing her life with other people. Was that what Morgause had meant in their shared dream?

She strolled at a more leisurely, more _queenly_, pace towards the arena. When she got there she found one of the tournament officials who was obviously was not used to being addressed by royalty and apparently did not know how to address one in return as he shifted from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at the expectant face in front of him;

"Erm, well, err, one of the finalists has pulled out. Got no idea why but wouldn't mind bettin' that 'e was, well, _persuaded. _Reckon he's been asked t' go elsewhere."

Morgana nodded distractedly, unsettled as she was a plan had started to form in her mind. "Thank you".

The only response that came was an "aye, right then" but his back was already turned. Ordinarily she may have called the strange little man up on his behaviour but at that moment she was far too preoccupied. Her mind was working overtime and by the time she looked up again she was in the armouries. This tournament would show the glory of Camelot if it killed her!

Morgana kept her helmet on as she entered the field, making extra effort to disguise the limp that had plagued her since her injury. The crowd that had grown restless after being monumentally disappointed at being told there would be no final now erupted into mass cheering at the sight of their second champion. She saw Gaius glaring at her from his place at the front of the stands- clearly she had not done as well at hiding her injury as she had hoped but he could do nothing to stop her now.

Her opponent turned to face her. _Sir Pellinore, _she thought grimly. He was solidly built but somehow not as threatening as she would have guessed and there was something familiar in his stance though she could not place him in memory. His armour looked fresh, he clearly had not taken many knocks in his bouts. With no monarch in the royal box to salute they began circling each other, sizing the other up before simultaneously springing into position. Just as the first exchange of blade rang out another moving pile of blackened armour battered its way onto the field. The insignia on the shield gave the name _Cadeyrn..._

**To be continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

** Hello all, back again! Well it's been a pretty crazy couple of weeks, ergo haven't had much time to write but tonight I am sitting with my laptop in the candlelight listening to the rain hitting the window and hoping that inspiration will come and hit me over the head! Here's hoping the Earl Grey and a bit of peace & quiet do the trick! Ah well, thank you to those of you who have reviewed, it really does help. For those of you still keeping up with the story I thank you for making it with me this far. Really been struggling to get a sense of what the people reading think of this story but I have finally realised that I need to get this story out of my head and do the decent thing by giving it a proper ending. Still have a wee while to go first but it's getting there. Sorry it's taken me so long to get this next chapter posted, I hope you like it...**

**Chapter Nine**

Both Arthur and Morgana spun and raised their blades to the pile of blackened armour that now clattered its way towards them. Sir Cadeyrn already looked a force to be reckoned with, a keenly-edged axe swung from a thick, tightly bound belt at his waist and his gauntleted fingers gripped the hilt of his sword aloft which gleamed brilliantly in the hot afternoon sun. He did not seem the diplomatic sort!

Peering through the narrow visor in his helmet Arthur could just make out the strange markings on Cadeyrn's blade. Bizarre linear scrapings that looked almost like some sort of script but not of any language he recognised. Had Morgana noticed it? The armour was strange as well, the individual plates were identical in purpose to any other knight's but forged in a way that certainly wasn't performed by any local craftsman. This _Sir Cadeyrn _was clearly well-travelled. Beside him Morgana shifted nervously from foot to foot, no longer concerned with her tournament opponent but now consumed by this unwelcome new-comer.

Too busy focusing on the woman at his side Arthur did not see the first blow that came flying his way, blocked only by the cold steel of Morgana's own sword. If the Queen truly knew who he was he doubted very much she would be defending him but he did not have time to think much before he caught another swing, this time making contact with his gut. The force of the hit knocked the wind from him and he staggered momentarily then somehow found himself frozen to the spot, unable to move. Fortunately Morgana unwittingly came to his aid once more by landing her own blade solidly into the other man's back. Then all of a sudden a morning star appeared from somewhere into the Knight's free hand and the Sorceress found herself hedging backwards, her injury all but forgotten as she swerved herself away from the three spiked spheres that threatened to bludgeon her to death with every turn.

It was like watching some sort of dreadful tableau from somewhere far off in the distance. The former Prince felt heavy and helpless, as if he had been suspended in a dream. Then he heard a voice but it wasn't quite _hearing _as such, almost as though a voice just appeared in his head, gentle and familiar albeit insistent;

_Arthur...Arthur! You must hurry! Your sister needs you!_

He jerked as he came back to himself, confusion completely overtaking his mind;

"Mother!" he called out. _It was her!_

He glanced wildly about the arena. Something had been holding him, keeping him in such a daze where he could do nothing but look on. He trotted after Morgana, sidling himself up at Cadeyrn's back. Morgana had finally been forced into tripping over her own, landing on her her back with an almighty thud with the woman's helmet being knocked flying. She stared up at him with wild eyes, powerful magic coursed its way through her veins ready to be unleashed upon this abominable figure before her when she was stopped short.

As Cadeyrn took one final colossal swing he was caught by Arthur's blade, entangled in the wrought iron chains behind him. Gathering all the strength he could muster Arthur yanked the weapon out of the other man's grip, sending it careering across the field and into some unfortunate section of spectators who thankfully all managed to dive out of the way before it smashed through the wall behind.

With one parry and then another Arthur drew this great bear of a man away from the Sorceress who had, by now, recovered her helmet and begun chasing after the pair. Block by block the tables steadily turned and between the two of them they found themselves on level footing with their shared opponent. Blades levelled at each other Arthur removed his helmet, letting it drop to the dusty ground to a gasping audience;

"I am Arthur, former Prince Royal of this Kingdom. I demand you tell me what business you have here!"

Morgana's helmet snapped around to the figure beside her, the shock just evident through the slit where her blue/grey eyes showed bright and clear as well as a controlled fury that Arthur knew all too well. The knight did not reveal himself at first, weighing up his opponent before slowly raising a hand to lift the heavy helm.

Beneath was a man of around thirty, a long and full beard covered over his face and neck. His long, wavy hair was a dull brown streaked with the occasional grey though his eyes were a blue as the sea and sparkled in the glare of the sun but an angry scar ran from his left temple down to the corner of his mouth which lent the man a more sinister air. When he spoke his voice was gruff and his tone dangerous;

"My business is with this Queen Morgana" he flicked the tip of his blade towards her as if emphasising the point before turning his rough features back to Arthur, "not you though you are a strong fighter, you would do well to join my cause!" At this he laughed, though what is was that he found amusing was proving elusive to both Arthur and Morgana.

"What sort of cause is it that brings you to lay sword on Camelot?"

Cadeyrn sneered back at the question. "What concern is that of yours? From what I hear you have no reason to be loyal to this one." He gave a brief but still disgusted leer at Morgana, "you would be well paid and have food your belly. All with the satisfaction of settling old scores."

The more Arthur heard the man speak the more he realised he spoke with a similar accent to Merlin. His armour may be foreign but _he _was local.

"I think I will...give it a miss, if it is all the same to you."

"Then you have chosen your fate."

Cadeyrn swept us his helmet and stormed away from the stricken pair.

From his place in the spectator's stands Merlin watched the knight make his exit, noting the curious cloaked figure that lumbered off after him from another place in the crowd, leaning heavily on a crooked staff, gnarled fingers being the only visible sign of what lurked beneath the woollen hood.

On the field Morgana took one look at Arthur, glad the closed helm disguised her own stricken features before stomping off to the armoury gates.

It was only when she sat down and allowed herself the space the breathe that the nagging sensation in her thigh caught up with her, making her shake violently in the agony that followed. She was fully aware that it would not be long before Gaius, the court physician came to find her. She laughed mirthlessly. Even through the pain she could sense his presence nearby. It was one of the gifts she had inherited on the death of Morgause- the ability to sense others even if they were miles away. During her time on Avalon after her inaugurations she had learned to hone the skill to some degree but it was another one of those things that required more practice than time allowed.

Thinking of Morgause made her ache and smile all in one instant. She needed her here, now more than ever. She needed her guidance, her seemingly endless wisdom but most of all she needed a pair of arms around her to take the hurt away. _The hurt that she, herself, caused _the witch thought bitterly. _Mother said she and Morgause would be helping me...so where are they then?_

She was distracted from her thoughts by the creaking of a door. Instinctively she drew her sword and peered into the darkness, her own nerves sending the chilling tingles up her spine and along her arms where the fine hairs stood, as if they too were ready to pounce like a cat on some unsuspecting intruder. She relaxed as she saw it was only Gaius and lowered herself back into the chair. It was only a simple wooden thing, no luxury in its making but right now it provided the small relief that her body cried out for.

With the assistance of her young Squire armour was removed and wound attended albeit with the occasional tutting and murmuring of disapproval from Gaius. It was then with weary footsteps that she carried herself up to her chamber before slumping down onto the bed. She teetered on the edge of sleep for some time before shooting up on hearing her sister's musical tones in her mind;

_Sister, I am never very far away..._

But when she opened her eyes it was the serving girl Aelwyd she found, nervously curled around the door;

"My Lady...My Lady...it is time to ready ourselves for the final feast. My Lady, are you quite well?"

Morgana could only look about her and nod. She would leave for Avalon in the morning, she needed the sound counsel of Isilda.

**To be continued...**


	10. Chapter 10

** Hello, hello, hello! Well, it's the next instalment of _Price of a Kingdom. _Thank you for keeping up with me you wonderful, wonderful people. Special thanks to Nerw20, you will eventually get your wish but it may well take a while to get there! Ready for the next bit?**

**Chapter Ten**

After all the pomp and circumstance that, by now, the people of Camelot had down to a fine art Morgana was glad to be in the relative sanctity of the open road. The fresh night air and the delicate scents of the forest coupled with the restful silence that came from being far away from the hustle and bustle of a city was a more than welcome tonic for the weary queen. The post-tournament feasting had gone on on throughout the night until the light of a new day had begun its slow ascent in the sky. Thankfully most of the crowd had begun to take their leave as soon as politeness decreed, allowing them a head-start on their long journeys home and giving Morgana the excuse of an early night. In truth, she had left the city unheralded, happy to afford herself a little solitude. She had told only the maid Aelwyd that she was going though, instructing her to tell any who may be looking for her that she was ill and could not receive visitors. She could have sworn she saw a brief expression of disappointment cross the young girl's face at the idea of being left behind but she wanted to be alone. The Isle of Avalon was not a place she wished to share with the curious eyes of her servants.

It was only in the rare quiet moments like this that Morgana allowed herself to absorb the true power of magic, the simple energy that moved within the Earth; the Great Mother.

She smiled, remembering the many hours that Morgause had spent taking her out into the woods that surrounded their beautiful castle, painstakingly drilling into her sister's head the thanks that must always be given to the Goddess;

_"All around you here you can see rocks, water, plants, the creatures of the forest. Casting spells and brewing potions perhaps may be the 'glamorous' side of magic, sister but never forget that it is here, within nature that the source of our power truly exists; the energy that flows through the very Earth itself. We must be careful never to take her for granted for as she gives she is also free to take. We must never forget, we are but mere mortals."_

But there were compensations. Going out into woods brought its own reward; after every "class" she would receive another type of tuition, a practical assessment if you like, in passion. The memory of those long sun-drenched afternoons made Morgana's smile turn into a classic smirk of delight.

She thought of Morgause's skills with herb craft and medicine. It was this very discipline to which she owed her own life; in those dark days after being poisoned by that idiot Merlin, when her sister had cared for her, breathing the very life back into her body. She remembered lying in the great chamber that would become her own bedroom, sometimes sleeping, sometimes not but always waited on hand and foot by the sorceress herself. In fact, Morgause had barely left her side at all. Now the road on which Morgana's horse's hooves rattled was leading her to that place where Morgause could still be found; in the hollows where the blonde sorceress had played as a child between lessons, the shore where she would greet their mother on her rare and secret visits and the rooms where she had slept and learned the arts of the priestesses. From her sister the unparalleled beauty and power of Avalon had radiated in a tremendous tide that swept up all those around into a daze of wonderment.

The early morning mist had begun to burn off as the sun climbed higher through the clouds. The young queen had been travelling for a few hours and decided the horse could do with a rest. What that really meant, of course, was that _she _needed a rest. The pair drew up next to a small spring, its water trickled cool and clear from a small stone edifice. Tying the white mare's reigns to a nearby tree stump she found a comfortable spot beside, the shade the horse provided offered relief from the glaring sun. Closing her eyes she allowed her mind to drift.

She only woke again when the white mare gave a grunt and a kick at her side, judging by the height of the sun it must have been midday. She had _not _intended to fall asleep! Now running behind time with still yet half a day's ride ahead of her she stretched her tired limbs and eased herself up. The gash in her thigh still throbbed but she could not give-in, she had to ride on.

The longer she rode, the farther away Avalon seemed to be and the more agitated she became. The more agitated she became the less she thought of her sister and the more her thoughts turned to Arthur. _How dare he...how _dare _he? _She forced herself to calm down at a corresponding clap of thunder above. _But honestly, _she continued, _thinking he could come to Camelot..._My _Camelot to compete under my very nose! Then to bring that servant, that...that...that _Merlin _along with him! _The thought filled her with utter disdain. _Poaching warriors from _my _tourney, indeed. _

Still, her own interests had not turned to complete failure. She had found one or two worthy fighters, diamonds in the rough you might say. One in particular named 'Bedivere'. _Such an honest face..._

She would knight him on her return, whenever that was.

It was nightfall before Avalon came into view, the Lake glistening with silver ribbons under the moonlight, the Lady, herself, round and full in a cloudless sky. Any magic performed this night would possess double its normal potency. She summoned the narrow boat that would take her to just the middle of the Lake, there to speak the words that only the sworn priestesses knew. The words that would make the Isle of the Avalon shimmer to life before her eyes. Morgana stared in amazement as she always did when her...home...came into view with its little buildings casting out a warm and welcoming glow to those who knew how to find them. It seemed strange to think that any passers-by would see only the Lake and not the vast chain of islands that now filled her vision. Even now it still felt secret and special.

Even as late as it was Isilda and little Alastrine were still there to greet her when Morgana's boat up and grazed the shingled shore, moving towards her with arms outstretched. Isilda was the first to speak up;

"Morgana, how wonderful to have you back with us. I hear you have been busy back in Camelot." At Morgana's expression of surprise Isilda gave a knowing look, "as you see my dear, word of your success has even reached our pleasant little back water".

Alastrine gave a small bob to her former mistress. Through later conversations Morgana discovered that the young woman had carved out quite a life for herself on Avalon and was well loved among the priestesses. Apparently the idea had been muted that she should perhaps consider taking the priestess training herself.

"Evening My Lady, so good to see you again. You have been much missed." The faint blush that coloured the girl's cheeks did not go entirely unnoticed by either priestess.

Isilda turned and announced that the Lady of Avalon would probably wish to retire for the evening and should not be detained any further by the fussing and fawning of an old maid and a young girl though it was said with kindly smile.

So Morgana's horse was led to the stables by one of the young priestesses in-training who had been in attendance somewhere in the background during the exchange and Morgana strolled the short path to her own dwelling, the house of the High-Priestess. What hit her first on opening the door was the fresh scent of magic. The clean smell of the herbs that grew just outside the window and the light smoke of a wood fire burning under the mantle. Too tired to deal with her things now, she dropped the few items she had with her on the floor by the grate and made her way to the rear of the small house. It was the sight of the bed that stopped her and brought a tear to her eye. When Morgause had brought her to Avalon for one brief visit she had then brought her to this bed and the where the two of them made love until dawn had made its presence felt in the lightening of the sky. After shedding her travelling clothes she slipped under the thick, heavy blankets, hugging them tightly to her. Tomorrow would be a new day and hopefully Isilda would have some wise words to help her in this new dilemma. The troubles brought to her by Arthur and this Cadeyrn had settled a weight upon her chest that she knew would not be eased any-time soon but perhaps, for the moment, it was enough to shut her eyes and inhale the scent of a blonde sorceress that pervaded the cloth of her blanket still.

**I know this was a slightly shorter chapter but this was kind of one of those in-between chapters to get on to the main event. Anyway, let me know what you think guys,**

**To be continued...**


	11. Chapter 11

** Hello again all! Well yet again it's been another crazy few weeks so once more I must apologise for the delay in this next chapter- my poor laptop hasn't seen the light of day for about a fortnight! Instead, it's been sitting in it's case in the corner of the Living Room all underused and undervalued so here's hoping (fingers crossed) that this next chapter is worth the wait- I haven't forgotten about you...promise! Anyway, without further ado onto the next chapter...**

**Chapter Eleven**

_Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!_

Arthur's loud hammering was enough to wake the dead...but the question remained, was it enough to rouse the Queen from her rest? _Morgana never did like getting out of bed, _he decided.

Surprise became evident on his boyish features when the door opened to reveal not the Lady of Camelot but Aelwyd, her pretty young maidservant. His patience, however, was nearing its end after spending the previous two days desperately trying to track down his half-sister with no avail and apparently no innocent bystander was to be spared his wrath.

"I need to speak to Morgana." His already abrupt tone was made yet more terse at the hand-maiden's blank look; "your Mistress, where is she?"

The girl looked about her, startled. She had only ever been told kind things about the great Prince Arthur, even from Morgana, but the furious man who stood before her now bore no resemblance to the noble knight she had heard so much of; "She...the mistress is not able to see visitors, My Lord. She is terrible unwell."

"I don't believe that." he answered quietly. He pushed the heavy oak door to the side with ease, sweeping little Aelwyd off along with it. The high-colour of his cheeks turned ashen grey while his eyes narrowed and his lips tightened into a thin line as indignation turned to outright anger. His voice, when he spoke again, taking the girl's shoulders in a firm grip, was calmer though brittle and as chill as ice; "Alright, tell me where she is and do not lie to me."

The maid was still reeling after being knocked to the side, albeit inadvertently, by the former Prince. "My Lord, I don't know anything. My Lady only told me not to allow anyone into her chambers. She has left the city but I have no idea where she has gone. Please believe me, I meant no disrespect." her fingers trembled as she pleaded. The Prince's demeanour softened as he realised the girl really was telling the truth. After all, Morgana's sudden flights had nothing to do with this maid- she was notorious for it!

"I am sorry...A...um...?"

"Aelwyd...My Lord. My name is Aelwyd." The girl blushed as she interjected, suddenly finding great interest in the vibrant crimson rug under her feet. Arthur, himself, was turning an interested shade of humility.

"Please forgive my behaviour Aelwyd, I...it was not my intention to frighten you. When she gets back..." he glanced around in frustration, "when she gets back you tell her I was looking for her. I must speak with your Mistress urgently, the future of Camelot may depend on it."

Some miles away Morgana was as content as she could ever remember being; observing life continuing around her at a somewhat gentler pace. The last few weeks had been utterly frantic, it was only when she had stopped dashing around like a mad woman that she realised how drained she really was- little wonder she had begun to feel so constrained by her own palace. Now she sat on the lake's edge, listening to the gentle come-and-go lapping of the water against the pebbled shore. Happy just to be breathing in the clean forest air as she watched the brilliant afternoon sun dancing on the placid rippling waves and hearing somewhere in the background the faint echo of the priestesses singing as they worked. She truly had come to love this place. She had done ever since her sister had first brought her here during her tutelage but now it was more than a simple affection. It was the easy serenity of someone who had returned home after a long and perilous journey. Thinking of her sister she looked up, her eyes wandering, as they tended to do, over to the figure tending her own private garden.

Rather than her trusted friend Alastrine she had been sent one of the priestesses-in-training to attend her during her stay; an efficient and unassuming kind of character. Morgana supposed that the girl was typical of the young maidens who had come here to train in the Druidic arts but as she, herself, had never undergone such an apprenticeship she had little to compare to. She had trained under her own sister, been provided the love and support of family while making the difficult transition from ordinary noblewoman to High-Priestess. These girls were cut off from their families at a young age, learning to rely on themselves with only the bonds formed among their fellow novices for comfort. In one of their brief conversations she had asked the girl's name. As it turned out she was of one of the old tribes in the West...Delyth, her name was. The dark-haired sorceress had thought it sweet and entirely apt for she was very pretty in her own quiet way. It was pleasant, actually, after the brashness of Aelwyd to have a more cheery soul around her dwelling. She had smiled to herself that morning to hear Delyth happily humming as she hovered over the pot that had been set above the fire, filled to brim with a hearty broth _to keep your strength up, _Isilda had said. The young woman had been so embarrassed that Morgana had taken pity on her and told her that she may sing any tune as she desired, it pleased her Lady so much to hear.

She sighed a wistful smile when she heard familiar footsteps approaching behind her, the tread now as natural to her ear as her own. The hand on her shoulder was warm and the delicate yet unmistakeable aroma of herbs a comfort. Isilda's ageing bones creaked loudly as she sat down beside the young dark-haired woman, making the pair of them grimace and laugh simultaneously.

"Oh my dear, I remember when you first came to us, such a girl!" the old woman gave a chesty chuckle, "you were so wide-eyed and clinging to Morgause for fear she would run off and leave you somewhere- lest you be left with us old hags!"

Morgana rolled her eyes at the other woman's grinning face. "That's not true, I was nervous and...excited."

Isilda caught the young woman's eye and suddenly her beaming smile took on an air of melancholy. Morgana had a feeling she knew what was about to come next. "My dear, you must go back. You cannot stay here and hide forever."

Morgana opened her mouth to protest but she was quickly forestalled by the other's hand; "the world needs you, Camelot needs you and whether you wish to admit it or not Arthur needs you. A threat is coming, greater than either of you have ever faced before and now is the time to unite, not to leave to your separate failures."

"I feel so alone." Morgana felt her voice empty and devoid of hope. Isilda resisted the urge to smile- she had never known the dark-haired woman to be so quiet!

"You will have the help when you need it most and you know this, my child." No one else would dare refer the Lady of Avalon and Queen of Camelot as a child but Isilda held a special place in Morgana's life; she was teacher, counsellor, advisor and a sort of surrogate grandmother. Morgause had respected her and loved her well. Soon enough after her life as the Lady had begun Morgana, too, had learned to trust the infinite wisdom reflected in those greying eyes. Eyes that could no-longer see the world around her so clearly but saw everything beyond it. In response to such a statement Morgana could only nod.

Arthur bolted down the corridor after his sister, his hard-heeled boots clattering with each scuff of the cold stone floor of Camelot's Palace building. "Morgana, you need to listen to me!" his voice carried after her.

Abruptly the Queen turned and the former prince came screeching to a halt before her; "no Arthur, I don't. There is nothing you can possibly have to say to me that I do not already know."

"Oh yes there is" he persisted with a dogged determination, Morgana found it almost admirable..._almost. _"Morgana, Cadeyrn is a Saxon sympathiser...I spoke to Merlin...he recognised hi..."

"Him, yes, his mother was a woman of the tribes who married Saxon mercenary. His mother was killed during the purge and his father swore vengeance against the Pendragon. When his father died Cadeyrn took up the mantle and has spent the last ten years concocting one ridiculously ludicrous plan until now. He has returned to Saxon shores to gather an invasion force and plans to take Camelot himself"

"How could you...?"

"Have you forgotten I am the Lady of Avalon?"

Arthur's cheeks adopted a decidedly reddish tinge. "The point is, Morgana, that he is not just coming after Camelot. The Saxons plan to conquer Albion for themselves- he has been gathering followers for himself over here- people with axes to grind...or just those with a service to offer a high bidder." He leaned forward and hushed his voice; "he will have men on the inside, you need to watch your back."

Morgana lunged into Arthur's own space in response; "yes, and you need to watch yours. I will despatch a rider when I have assessed the situation. Until then I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear from you and I don't want you in my court- is that understood?" Her words were made yet more potent from the flash of dangerous and powerful magic that glimpsed through her eyes.

But Arthur would not cower and he would not be outdone. He took a great step and back and made a deep, comical bow; "as you wish..._My Lady._"

**Uh huh, you guessed it,**

**To be continued...**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello all, back again! Well firstly a big thanks to Nerw20, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, that's a lovely thing to hear. Rtms, once again graceful in critique so thanks to both of you. Something that has been brought to my attention is the jarring effect in some of my transitions. All I will say is that when I'm still in the writing I do put in lines like to say "end of scene" for want of a better description but I hadn't realised until it was mention that these apparently aren't showing up when I go to post that I apologise, that's obviously something I need to look at when I'm uploading. Must also apologise for the delay in this chapter- I was away for a few last week then came back full of the flu- delightful! On the plus side this will be a longer chapter as I have a lot say (I know, imagine that!) :-****D**

**Chapter (unlucky for some) Thirteen**

To say that Gwen was happy when Arthur and Merlin arrived home would, perhaps, be a slight understatement as she rushed forward to leap into Arthur's arms. Merlin, as ever, remained hovering in the background by the horses; watching the pair as they began to drift away with Arthur's arm about Gwen's shoulders and he heard the sandy-haired prince muttering something about how insufferable Morgana had been during the short visit. This brief return to Camelot had given Merlin a chance to appreciate just how much life had changed over the previous few months. He had just begun to lose himself in a really pleasant daydream before being flattened to the ground when a saddle that had been levelled at him made solid contact with his gut.

"Come on Merlin, get those horses away!"

Well...maybe things hadn't changed for _him _exactly...

Scrabbling up from the dusty earth he turned to look once more at the couple before leading the horses away to the school's stables. Arthur and Gwen had turned to face each other in what would, in any other circumstances, have looked like a decidedly romantic pose with the sun setting behind them recreating their figures as shadows but Merlin was all too aware that the words being exchanged between the two would be anything but tender.

"So did you receive the gift I sent you?" Arthur asked coyly.

Gwen's face was doubtful; "if you mean those sweaty old knights then yes. They have already started training the majority of the villagers." The sounds of which could be heard somewhere in the background by a nondescript clattering of sword against shield.

Arthur's expression took on a graveness which had lately been all too readily apparent on the young man's features, "do you believe they will be ready soon?"

Gwen's confusion was self-evident; "ready for what?"

"Ready to fight a war" his voice was brittle yet not unkind. Simply the tired tones of a man who has resigned himself to his fate but he brushed the back of his hand lightly over Gwen's cheek just the same; "we may not have as long as we thought. When Merlin and I arrived in Camelot there was a man there who...well, he has harboured hostility towards Camelot for many years. Before now he has never been seen as a real threat but somehow he has gained the wherewithal to amass an army of Angles and Saxons which could be poised to attack at any time now."

Guinevere gasped, covering her open mouth with trembling fingers. "Oh, Good God!"

"I know, it's a shock"

"No, no it's not that" she interjected before he could continue, waving her hand to silence him; "Arthur, there were ships, yesterday. They sailed right past us. The scouts along the shore spotted them in the afternoon."

Arthur broke away, giving a loud, sharp grunt in frustration; "They could be anywhere by now. For all we know my Father's city may already be lost!"

"Oh Arthur, if I had known!" Gwen implored from behind.

The young Prince pulled his would-be Queen back into his embrace though he knew it would offer little comfort. They shared a brief, perfect moment together until the next unwanted disturbance came bounding up to them, only this time it was not Merlin.

"Hello Arthur, good to see you back!"

"Elian, you weren't here when he left." Gwen replied quite correctly if somewhat petulantly. Still Arthur gave the other man a token slap on the back just the same.

"Elian, good to see you to. How are you?"

"I'm well. Been working hard" and he pointed at Guinevere, "this one's a hard task-master!"

Gwen decided it was time to interrupt before any misunderstandings erupted; "Elian has been working, yes. We set up a temporary forge in one of the old barns. He has been churning out weapons and keeping the horses shod ever since he came to us...just after you left."

Arthur gave a smile to both brother and sister; "that's alright, Elian. I have one just like her in Camelot!" which earned him a very sincere slap on the arm from Gwen's direction- _honestly, comparing me to Morgana!_

"Up to your old tricks again, I see Arthur" came Merlin's voice from behind as he trotted up to meet them. "Elian! Didn't know you were here, are you staying with us?"

Gwen could only cringe as Arthur responded by thumping his hand onto the Blacksmith's shoulder again, saying "of course he must stay!"

The next evening when all were fed and sat contentedly around the fire after a proper welcome home feast a shout came from the watchtower; riders were advancing towards the town gates...riders from Camelot. Arthur, Gwen and several of the knights jumped to their feet. Merlin decided that someone should keep an eye on the fire and made to stretch out before a rough hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him off with the rest of the party. By the time he and Arthur had caught up the riders were already dismounting from the great white geldings that Camelot had become so famous for. One thing Arthur could say for his sister- she had done some very good work developing the city's cavalry capabilities as he had seen for himself.

As the first man took a step forward he bowed before the lady of the town leaving Gwen a little taken aback- she had never been paid such homage before and certainly never by a knight!

"My Lord, my Lady, my name is Sir Bedivere. I am sent by the Queen of Camelot, the Lady Morgana.."

But Arthur quickly held up a hand; "we know who she is. What is your message?" Perhaps the response was harsh but he had heard enough from the _great Lady _to last him!

"I apologise," and here he introduced his companion, "this is Sir Drustan. We were both sent from Camelot with very different purposes but quickly found our journeys entwined. I have been charged with a duty to find you, the Lady Morgana seeks your help- we have received reports of rebel uprisings in the border counties instigated by Cadeyrn's influence. It is only a matter of time before our once neighbours rise against us. The Lady begs your help against these enemies for they are your enemies as well. If Camelot falls to the Saxons then the last British stronghold will be lost and each outlying settlement will be picked off one by one. Sir Drustan, here, was sent to trace the progress of the Saxon invaders and his trail led him in this direction."

The other, somewhat younger man gave a fearful nod. "I traced a path along the coast, I found the ships moored up along the way there," and he pointed to some far-off place over his shoulder, "but there was no man on board any of the vessels. They will already be on the march and can surely not go unnoticed much longer but as yet I have found no trace of them."

Arthur nodded, taking pity on them. They were given a bed for the night and what little food the encampment could spare to stave of the knights' hunger. It would be a hard course of riding the next day to warn Camelot of its impending trials but the question remained- would there be anything left to save on their return?

The following afternoon in Camelot's Great Hall Morgana looked up from the array of maps and charts on the Council's Table as the colossal oak doors burst open to reveal two very exhausted knights. Every occupant in the courtroom, including the Queen herself, stood up at the men's arrival. The newly appointed Sir Bedivere and his companion Sir Drustan fell to their knees rather than managing a more deliberate kneel before the Lady.

"My Lady," gasped out Bedivere, his breath coming in heavy gulps, "My Lady we travelled hard all night, fearing you may already have been attacked. You sent us both on very separate missions; I to find Arthur and Drustan to learn if the Saxons had made in-roads to Britain. About half-way through out journeys we discovered we were on the same path. My Lady, Saxon ships were sighted by Arthur's men the day before we arrived. Guinevere, your former maid, she heard the warnings from the coastal scouts. There were hundreds of them. Your Majesty, Drustan saw the ships with his own eyes not thirty miles from here but they were empty; for all we know the invasion you have dreaded may already be upon us."

Morgana had never experienced a deafening silence before but she had a feeling it was something like this. Turning to the tall windows that dominated the hall she watched the great beams of light that seemed to cut the room into great sections. _Dark, into Light, into Dark, into Light_...the effect was almost magical in itself. Absently and probably much to the consternation of the court she asked of Bedivere absently; "where is this place that Arthur has made his home?"

Confused, Bedivere told her that Arthur's settlement was on the land that once belonged to the Iceni people. Morgana's gaze grew yet more distant as she recalled a story that she had heard as a girl; the story about of the fiery Iceni queen who had once led her people against the patriarchal might of Rome many centuries before. Against all the odds Boudica had almost been successful. Could Morgana do the same now but this time win?

"Defend the city..." came the voice of her Lieutenant, the man who was there, essentially, to see that the Queen's laws were carried out during times of peace but he was also her chief military tactician, having served Uther loyally in years past, though in this instance Morgana raised her hand, stopping the man short. When she spoke again it was almost as if the wisdom came forth from some other age, perhaps history itself as calling to them now to act and the room hushed to hear it speak;

"If the Saxons landed yesterday then they will already be on the march. Our best defence will be to face them in open battle before they have the chance to even contemplate storming the citadel. I tried it before myself, or perhaps you have forgotten Agro?" and here she turned to look pointedly. He may have been her Lieutenant but her say would be final. "We should stop them before they reach the city walls. I choose the ridge just past the clearing. If they have come from the coast their most likely route would lead them straight to us- there is no easy way to circumnavigate the ridge from that direction, their only option will be to climb. Our men will have the high ground and their training in their favour, our only downfall will be our lack of numbers if Cadeyrn has amassed the numbers he claims." She turned to Bedivere, "what of Arthur?"

"He is on his way My Lady but who knows when he will get here."

"Then we are alone." She took a step towards Gaius who, as ever, stood quietly in the shadows of the wall. "Gaius, if you are able, I need you to prepare supplies for a dressing station. There will be many wounded, summon every servant we have in the court and use them in any way you see fit- they would be little use with sword in-hand but I have no doubt they will play their part well under your guidance."

Gaius watched the woman closely, she truly had created herself a leader. While he had never been thrilled, exactly to reside under her rule he now eyed her with something akin to respect and nodded his compliance; "as you wish My Lady." They both knew the human cost of a war but were also all too aware of the disaster that awaited them should Morgana's troops be forced to retreat, being pursued all the way home by the Saxon dogs.

The Queen turned and nodded her dismissal to the rest of the room.

The Palace, as Morgana made her way back to her chambers, was a hive of activity though doubtless nobody really knew why. It was always better if the people were not given time to panic- the last thing the Queen needed was an uprising in the streets! She was followed through the door by Aelwyd, both of them relatively calm given the circumstances even as Morgana grimaced to herself through gritted teeth; _and where is this 'help' I was promised from Avalon, hmm? I don't see any little old priestesses making their way up the path! _But the Queen let out an almighty screech at the sight before her;

"!" the maid behind her dropping the silver tray and jug she was carrying.

There, in the full-length glass were two figures. Albeit figures Morgana knew well but still, what on Earth were Morgause and her Mother _doing _in her mirror!

"What...what...wha'..." her index finger pointed and lowered as she desperately tried not to faint.

"Morgana, you asked for help and here we are. Now get us out of here, we simply cannot stay here all day!" Morgause urged, even as her image began to flicker and distort but Morgana simply stood staring in a state of sheer catatonia. Her mother began to tap at the glass, peering out through mirror face;

"Is this working? Can she see us Morgause?"

"No Mother, of course not. She has just screamed at an empty mirror!" came the exasperated response.

"Morgause, you may be dead but do not think you are above a slap from your Mother!"

Despite the situation Morgana thought it highly amusing to see Morgause, who had always seemed the very essence of combined serenity and silent power, being taken in-hand with such ease by their mother.

"Morgana, darling, just put your hand to glass and invite us through. Morgause is right, this magic will not hold for much longer."

It took a little while but after a few moments of being told "closer", "up a little" and "no, that's too far" her Mother's hand finally emerged from the rippling reflection, gradually followed by the rest of her until she stepped out from the glass entirely. Viviane found herself swiftly wrapped up in a warm embrace. _The first time, _she thought, _The first time I have ever held my Mother! _But she was soon broken out of her reverie by a rather panicked throat-clearing;

"Hello! If you two have quite finished?"

Viviane let out a quick "oh!" reaching in to retrieve her other daughter before the image of her disappeared entirely.

Morgana's smile altered when she stepped back and actually _looked _at her mother and sister. Something was not quite right. They were..._glowing? _"Mother, how did you two...?"

"Darling, there is no time to explain but we have been allowed to return on this one occasion. The Saxons are powerful and while you have the strength of an experienced army it will take something altogether _more _powerful to defeat such a threat. This no longer involves only Camelot. The entire land is at stake."

"So you haven't...absconded...from anywhere? You haven't broken some magical code just to get here?"

"No of course not! As if we would do a thing like that!" but then she turned to Morgause. "Well perhaps..." though at Morgause's scowl she thought better of voicing the thought "Perhaps not. Now tell me, how far away are the enemy?"

"Well, we are not entirely sure. They were sighted along the Eastern coast over a day ago so they will already be on their way." Morgana offered up weakly.

"Then we have no time to waste", Viviane turned to the younger blonde, "you must go and rouse the army, I will go to the hill and wake the Ladies from their rest."

"Ladies, what? Mother! Army? I have already sent word for the troops to begin gathering!" Morgana protested rather pathetically. There was little point in arguing with either her Mother or Morgause individually but together they created an unstoppable force of nature which brokered no room for debate.

"Not _your _army, Morgana. Not an army of mortals but an army of the dead. You will lead your own troops from Camelot but your sister shall be with you at the head of the mightiest army Camelot has ever seen. An army made of those warriors who have already fallen for this land and those who called this place home before Uther's City was ever conceived. They must rise and fight for it once more."

The dark-haired witch barely managed to conceal her disappointment as Morgause merely cupped her cheek before making a hasty departure without any further word.

Around about the time that Morgana's head was reeling from un-dead relatives appearing in her bedroom furniture Arthur looked to the motley array of troops before him waiting for some for of address. Watching them cling to their weapons and seeing the abject fear in their eyes he realised he had absolutely nothing to say. These were farmers and simple folk he had spent the last few months training which was perfectly fine as far as defending their homes went but these were not battle-hardened troops. He may have delved deeper into his private musings had in not been for the expectant stares of those below him and the supporting smiles of those at his side.

"Standing before me I see proud men, men of t-" but a dig in the ribs stopped him before he could continue. "Standing before me," he began again with more than a little exasperation tingeing the edges of his tone, "I see proud men...and _women_ of this land. Each of you has proved your skill with the blade but now you have the chance to prove your heart in battle. It is up to you. It is your right to defend your homes. I am...we are...outsiders, we cannot tell you to defend yourselves but through your blood runs Iceni strength. Your ancestors proved themselves before many hundreds of years ago. If we win victory today then your grandchildren will still be telling their children your story. Walk into tomorrow with full heart and you will have honour for eternity to come."

When Merlin glanced at Arthur he could have sworn he saw the young man's eyes shining but to mention it would earn him a swift clout and Arthur was wearing gauntlets. With that, the Prince raised his arm and the vast swathe of bodies began to march, the ground thundering to the pounding of a thousand pairs of feet.

As night began to fall over Camelot the citadel was still buzzing with an even higher level of vivacity. By this time word had spread that the Queen was soon to be engaging them all in some mass battle and the court was ablaze with sightings of glowing sorceresses and ghost-like figures. _Just what was the Queen up to with her strange magical ways? _

In the sheer chaos of her surroundings Morgana found a brief moment of quiet in an old ruined part of the palace where she had once found sanctuary as a girl growing up in Uther's city. Through the crumbling stone window arches the moon beamed brightly, a reminder that the Lady had sent help in the form of her Mother and Morgause but who would be around to thank her after the battle was over? Footsteps crunched across the gravelly stone floor behind her and the most musical voice reached her ears just as a hand raised to lightly caress the young woman's shoulder;

"How do you feel Morgana?"

Morgana closed her eyes and breathed in the moment, petrified that none of it was real but the slight pressure and warmth from the other woman's hand remained where it was. "I don't know", she sighed, "but I am glad you are here." She turned to face the other woman. It was strange to see the slight bluish glow instead of Morgause's usual soft skin tones but the glow of the moonlight seemed to make her appear more mystical...and more beautiful. The older woman gave a small, guilty smile.

"I came to take you back. It is time for you to take your place." but as she took the younger girl's hand to pull her away she felt herself being tugged back and her lips were met by Morgana's insistent kiss. Their arms entwined as Morgause felt her whole body, spirit as it was, being tilted backwards oh-so-slightly by Morgana's ardent embrace. The kiss could only have lasted a minute or two but in that moment nothing else mattered. The last year of hurt and loneliness had never come to pass, there had only ever been the two of them, perhaps still content in their private kingdom at Morgause's Castle. Framed, in that decrepit arch-window, lit by only the moon their world existed once more. But it could not last and it was not long before that brief renewal of devotion collapsed into the harsh reality of what was. Morgause was a spirit, a visitor to this world of man that she could no-longer be a part of and Morgana was a Queen, very much alive, who must now lead her people against a very mortal threat.

With a raise of his arm he halted the assembly of marching troops. In the near distance he could hear the clip-clopping of a multitude of horses. Fearing it was the enemy they were catching up on he held his breath. As assistance to the greater military might of Camelot the two armies could very possibly win a victory but apart, they had no chance but what he saw only made him smile. Riding towards them at break-neck speed were the familiar forms of Lancelot, Percival, Leon and Gawain along with several other figures he did not recognise. He held out his hand to the group but Gawain spoke first;

"Arthur! Heard you were in a little trouble, we thought we'd join you!"

Incredulous, Arthur continued to stare in awe at the small troupe before him; "How did you...?"

This time Lancelot spoke up; "ask your Queen, Arthur!"

Gwen could only blush as all eyes turned to her and Arthur allowed his gaze to trip merrily along the delicate curves of her face, "you did all this?"

Lancelot continued when it became clear that Gwen was less and less inclined to be the centre of attention; "I received word that you needed help, luckily Gawain and I have kept in-touch and he with the others. We got here as quickly as we could." His eyes remained fixed on Guinevere but he made a show of bowing before her and the others quickly followed suit. "To Queen Guinevere!" came the chorus of men.

Gwen could only wave her hand in a mock swatting motion; "I am no queen, I assure you!"

Publicly, Lancelot responded that she was more queen than that witch in Camelot would ever be but privately, after they had rode on a little and Arthur could not hear his true reply came;

"You will always be my Queen, Gwen"

Just outside Camelot Morgana led her troops up the high ridge where her vast army would make their final stand. Above them the moon loomed high, full and proud as an expectant Mother. Perfect for drawing on the Lady's power. On her right flank Morgause's regiment of fallen soldiers cast a ghostly blue glow in the pitch-black night while on her left warriors of Celtic descent from the land of Cambria were deafening Sir Bedivere with their wild battle cries. She had sent messengers to the far north of Britannia, to the warring Celtic tribes that lived in the place beyond the wall that the Romans had called Caledonia with its vast swathes of Mountains and numerous lochs. Surely if the Saxons invaded down here then they would ransack their way north too so why should they not come and fight? She had sent her emissaries to the chiefs of the so-called Pictish factions, to the Gododdin in the East and to good King Rhydderch- a kind man and no friend of the Saxons- who reigned in the province of Strathclyde but the messengers had never returned.

All around her the tall, narrow carnyx belted out a terrific noise but to Morgana it was a strangely comforting sound, an ancient reminder of the past they were fighting for.

On a nearby hill Viviane stood with arms outstretched. Behind her was a seemingly endless row of women chanting out in long-flowing blue and white robes, adding their voices to the throng of battle-cries; every Lady since the inception of Avalon and down the subsequent centuries had been summoned from their rest to bring their magic to the world once more. Looking down onto the battlefield the blonde spirit could clearly see her daughters heading up their respective flanks, swelling with pride for them both but knowing all too well that very soon it would be impossible to make out either of them in the coming chaos. The magnitude of what they had to achieve was lost on none one. Even the spirits of Avalon were not immune to today's outcome. If the battle were to be lost then they, themselves, would simply vanish with no one left in the world to remember them.

Beyond the ridge the Saxon rabble came to a sudden halt, the sight before them terrifying in its very magnificence. The cacophony emerging from the top of the ridge was ear-splitting and many of their fighters seemed...no...they couldn't be...they were pulsing with some strange form of light! Cadeyrn's General pointed up to the hill where the women, looking more like furies than priestesses were shining out like human beacons.

"Witches..." he grunted with a disgusting leer, "...filthy little whores conjuring up tricks to frighten us."

Cadeyrn nodded but he knew the powers of these women all too well; "perhaps but do not underestimate them or the effect they will have on the men."

Above them the young Queen cast a sly glance to her side. Morgause was resplendent. The armour she wore was the most ornate she had ever laid eyes on but there again so was Morgause herself. Each plate bore wonderfully intricate scroll-work with interlacing vines etched around the edges. It was too skilled a piece to be man-made and with her curling hair flowing freely behind her the woman may have been a queen in her own right. _Queen of the dead _she thought came bitterly, _as I may be myself soon enough. _Perhaps the other woman had caught the message because she raised her eyes, offering up something akin to a reassuring smile. This would be Camelot's defining moment. It would be her defining moment and the outcome would rattle down through time. Either she would be a failure and her memory would fade or she would become some unnamed woman who led her people to victory like the Queen she had heard about as a young girl in her father's court. Either way, for the people of today, Victory was the only option.

**Well there we have it for now,**

**Join me soon for the final chapter?**

**To be Continued...**


	13. Chapter 13

**Well hello again all! I know this has been a veeeerrrrrry long time in updating. I won't bore you with the details but been dealing with a bereavement in the family and various other things so I haven't really had much time to start writing again. Now I can understand what has happened when you're happily reading a story that cuts about half-way through and you never get to find out what the ending was! So anyway, many apologies to anyone who has, perhaps, wondered whether or not this story was ever going to have an ending. **

**Chapter 13**

The night air rang to the clattering of sword against sword punctuated with the dull thuds of steel into wooden shields. The vast swathe of bodies joined in battle writhed like giant waves crashing backwards and forwards against an unknown but bloody shore.

Morgana raised her head, cursing as the sleet hailed down from the billowing tumult above, bouncing off the beautiful gilt armour protecting her lithe form. The stars had vanished behind the thick brooding murk; even the moon's normally incandescent lustre had faded into the overpowering shadows. She knew it was only the immense power emanating from the ladies high up on the hill that had caused the thundering clouds to swirl into some sort of magical vortex but the darkness was still unsettling even as the lightening that tore through the skies provided some sporadic illumination. What _would _Uther think if he knew how magic was now playing such a vital role in the protection of his precious kingdom?

Though the young queen had to admit, this display of sorcery was having a kind of mesmerising effect on the enemy as many of Cadeyrn's men had already begun running towards the trees but equally the dark-haired witch was under no illusions as to the likely outcome of the battle without the aid of Arthur's men;

"Where _are _they?" she cried to the heavens even as she continued ploughing on into the enemy, blood-drenched blade in-hand. A quick glance to her right flank told her Morgause was sending her own army of the dead out to the far side of the hill to halt the Angle warriors' advance up the ridge but even they could not last forever. Undead as they were, the magic that had brought them here was already beginning to wane; even given the best efforts of the women on the hill who, despite their lofty position, were by no-means unscathed by the surrounding violence. The enemy had come equipped with their trebuchets which now pounded into the citadel's walls just above where the sorceresses were incanting their spells. One of Morgause's objectives would be to somehow destroy the enemy artillery but it was a high gamble. A brief but all-too-fatalistic smile from the blonde sorceress before she left made it clear that Morgana would soon be seeing her sister in one way if not another. The dark-haired witch managed a small nod of acknowledgement before watching the other woman ride off to whatever fate awaited.

As she rapidly surveyed the scene around her Morgana became painfully aware that Camelot's mighty troops were becoming desperately tired. She sympathised with them; her own body screamed with an exhausted agony that tore at her muscles and left her arms shaking so much that she could barely grip the weapon in her hand. On her left flank she could see the newly-knighted Bedivere struggling to find any purchase underfoot, the ground having been soaked into a thick quagmire, as he tried to fend off the rapidly mounting numbers that threatened to overwhelm his dwindling contingent of Celtic soldiers. The high hopes that she had begun her campaign with had now diminished to a sense of utter failure and an anger towards her supposed allies. The opposing army of Angles, Saxons and Jutes were beginning to make progress up the ridge, Morgana's own forces severely punished under sheer weight of numbers and no still no sign of reinforcements. Then a sudden sharpness in her ribs made her stomach lurch. The hand that automatically pressed itself into the pain came away coated in a hot, sticky crimson. Unable to prevent her tumble backwards she clamoured to find some form of support from her sword but her limbs were weak and she landed on her back though the thick mud did cushion the fall ever so slightly.

Somehow, through the deafening throng of battle and the mad rushing of blood in her ears she heard Sir Bedivere frantically calling over to her; then everything around her became sluggish and stilted but in the distance, she could swear she could see horses at the gallop. Perhaps her allies had finally arrived or perhaps she was merely slipping into an eternal dream from which there could be no awakening. Relief came within darkness and then peace...she was so tired...

/

Arthur's face had become the very image of a man-possessed during the final few miles towards Camelot knowing full well the potential cost of not arriving in time. Even as far as an hour's ride away could be heard the anguished cries of dying men and the fervent rallying of a thousand horses. By the time his party of followers had reached the field his own temper was at a fever pitch. The hooves of his own black mare thundered underneath, the movement ricocheting up the former-Prince's body, spurring him on to release a great shout;

"For the love of Camelot!"

The giant belting chorus that came from the masses behind forced the young man to swallow the lump that appeared in his throat. The enthusiastic band that followed their charismatic leader felt no hesitation as they charged into the mêlée even though some primal fear must have struck the heart of each individual soul at the sight which confronted them. The sheer brutality of the Saxon assault was viscously hacking its way through the Celtic heart and the pitch itself had adopted an eerie blue glow but no one dared turn back, even Gwen remained by Arthur's side and gripped his hand tightly before making their way into the fray. Defeat was simply not an option.

The Prince's Army from the East now began the arduous task of closing in on the enemy from their only open escape. The walls were closing in on the Germanic tribes and like any caged animal there was no only one way out. The Saxon attack became yet more savage, hacking into the native troops with even more vigour with sheer panic.

In the ensuing chaos Merlin took the chance to go where his talents could truly make a difference. Although loathed to leave Arthur he had never much use with a bladed weapon and took the chance to disappear up the high ledge to join the throng of women's voices. While the ancient Priestesses were powerful- the voice of the Goddess on Earth- Merlin had one other advantage. Once reaching the top of the ledge he knelt before Morgana's own mother Viviane then raised his head to the sky.

On the ground, behind the lines of battle, Gaius,within a few moments of setting up his dressing station, had been inundated with casualties. Many of them were the young lads he had gotten to know over the past few weeks, many more of them were those he had treated as the local physician at Camelot but by far the most tragic figure to be brought under his ageing gaze was that of a young woman. Long dark hair hung loose below her body, suddenly so weak and small. She remained drifting in and out of consciousness as Bedivere carried her carefully yet as he gently placed her on the surgeon's table the Queen gripped the young Knight's shoulder;

"Get back to the field. Our people need you and as your Queen I demand you to fulfil the duty you have been charged with." with this simple statement the young Lady's head began to loll backwards though her strained whisper could still be heard above all else; "a Queen may die but her people may still flourish. You have always been loyal Bedivere. Now grant me that my will is done and fight to the last. Fight for our very survival. It is you now who must go on. Lead them well."

With that the Queen lost her grasp on the young man's arm and became silent...

**I had intended to make this the last chapter but it's turning out to be a great deal longer than I had planned so in the interests of giving the story the best possible ending I've decided to split it into two. Hope you liked this one, as I say, it's the first time I've written anything in months so go easy on the old girl! :-D**

**To be continued...**


	14. Chapter 14

**Well folks, once again I must apologise. I was really hoping to have this story finished by now but it's been another crazy couple of months and I haven't had much time to write. I'd just like to say a wee thank-you to everyone who's kept up with the story and especially to those who have sent their reviews. I really hope you've enjoyed the story, I was going to write a separate epilogue but instead I've just decided to tack it onto the end of this final instalment. Anyway, thanks again for reading.**

**Chapter Fifteen**

While the Queen slipped into a restful abyss all those still in the midst of the violence abruptly froze in an unexpected terror. For a brief moment complete silence descended as the clang of weapons halted and even the shouts of warriors were stifled. Merlin lifted his gaze skyward at the familiar whooshing sound, like a giant bat but this bat had begun flaring the field with blasts of blistering white heat from its nostrils. Kilgarrah swooped majestically, yet almost mockingly over the pathetic trivialities of human conflict, setting the woods aflame thereby cutting off any salvation the Saxon masses may have sought through the thick forestry, filling the air with a thick, choking smoke that burned the lungs of anyone who dared fulfil the necessity to breathe. The enemy was now completely trapped. Arthur's Army had coordinated a pincer movement in tandem with Bedivere who had brought Morgana's own forces under his own banner, pulling their widespread array of bodies into two tightly formed phalanxes.

On the secondary front Morgause's phantom army had managed to fight their way back over the ridge to the clearings and had begun to knock out some of the Saxon fire power. They punched holes through the enemy archers, burnt trebuchets and finally it seemed the tide was beginning to turn, it was now no-longer a question of _if _the Celtic forces could survive but rather how longit would take to eradicate their attackers; "Battle" became "Rout". Still, Arthur had not yet caught sight of Cadeyrn himself and he secretly could not help but wonder if he had even bothered to turn up. _Perhaps cowering somewhere in the background_ but just as the thought was crossing his mind he caught a the flash of Cadeyrn's armour. Over by the edge of the woods, illuminated in Great Dragon's fire, his horse rearing and his sword dripping with crimson brandished high above his head was the man himself, supposed great Saxon chief that he was. With nothing left to follow but sheer animal instinct Arthur charged, tearing a strip straight through the field, leaving a great roar from the militia in his wake.

High up on the hill Merlin gave himself a kick of frustration. He may have called Kilgarrah but he needed to _**do**_something. Amidst the chaos there was no way of picking out even Arthur's familiar form. With nothing else springing to mind he leapt off in the vague direction of Gaius, hoping and praying to any god that would listen that the stubborn old goat was still alive.

Somewhere on the other side of the battlefield the spirit of Morgause felt an icy blast ripple the air around her, powerful enough to knock her down to the churning sludge below her feet. On her knees and gasping heavily one hand clutched at her abdomen as a sudden searing pain shot through her. Surely she had never felt such an agony, even when she had been alive! All coherent thought fled from her mind save for one, if one could even call it a thought. All she knew in that moment was a dire compulsion to find Morgana.

She winced, struggling to her feet and began frantically searching for a way back through the mixed throng of man and wraith. Her guts twisting and bent double she ran for all she was worth leaving only a streak of cobalt blue behind her. She had no idea where she was going but somehow her body, insubstantial as it was, knew exactly where her sister was. That pulling sensation led her straight to Gaius' Surgical Tent and suddenly heart-wrenching fear became overwhelming dread at the sight which greeted her entrance. In the middle of the giant enclosure on a tired old bedstead that had seen far too many a campaign lay the Queen of Camelot and High Priestess of Avalon, surrounded by attendants and of course Gaius himself.

Her mouth suddenly very dry, Morgause could only look on in sheer horror when behind her the figure of Merlin came bursting in;

"Gaius, they told me I could find you..."

He trailed off as the ancient physician met his own startled gaze as he sidled past the shadow of Morgause to the make-shift table. Despite his evident dislike for the so-called _"Queen of Camelot" _his voice when he finally spoke up was gentle, almost caring..._almost_;

"What happened to her?"

But before Gaius could respond Morgause, who had thus far been contained in a silent stupor stepped forward;

"More to the point what can be done?" Her voice was sharp but impassioned.

When Gaius finally managed a response his voice sounded tired, an old man who was more than past being fit for the duties of field surgeon though he, himself, would never have admitted it;

"My lady," he began, sounding surprisingly deferential, "I am afraid there is nothing to be done. The wound is too deep..." but Morgause was insistent, her tone rising less in panic than in anger at this physician's defeatism;

"I can feel her life slipping away! I feel her pain as if it were my own but she is not ready to follow me into the dark, Gaius, not yet..." she looked around in desperation, "there must be _something!" _

Merlin had heard enough, rage bubbled to the surface on hearing his mentor spoken to as nothing more than some disobedient peasant; "Well if you're so bloody powerful then why don't you do something about it! There are others who need Gaius' attention, people who haven't killed innocent victims just because it suited them! Maybe it is Morgana's time to go, maybe for once in her life she can do something selfless!"

Morgause paused momentarily, appalled at the behaviour of such a boy while Merlin merely tried to hide his now rather flushed face. When Morgause spoke again she brokered no argument, her timbre bitterly cold, almost spiteful; "even you, Merlin, could not watch another human being die. I know you and after watching you from the echoing vaults of eternity I know what your secret is. _I wonder_..." she continued in her very most cut-glass tone, "how would Arthur feel if he suddenly found out that his most trusted servant had in-fact been lying to him all this time?" Apparently time in the other world had not faded any of the witch's ire- she was still as guileless as ever!

Merlin was torn. At least part of what Morgause had said was true- he never could watch another mortal die if there was anything he could possibly do to stop it. There again, had he not been in exactly this position before? If he had let Morgana die in the first instance how different would life have been? He turned to Gaius who only gave him that frustratingly unhelpful look of _'it's your decision', _then he looked to Morgana; so pale, paler than usual and somehow so...fragile, even. She looked like the beautiful yet scared young woman he had first met all those years ago. "But why can you not do anything, yourself? Why do you want me?" Unsteadily lifting his gave to the older woman's agonized face; "surely you would prefer to save your own sister if you really do love her so much?"...was he _taunting _her?

It hurt Morgause to say it but yes, she needed this boy; "I need you because I have nothing left within me to give. I cannot breathe new life into this world when my own has been forfeit. Believe me, I would not be asking this of you if I had any other choice. I exist beyond the veil of life, in shadows and that is where my power lies now, not here. I have been given glimpses of the future and whether you would wish it or not, Morgana still has a part to play in this realm- some of it to your own advantage. Arthur will regain his father's kingdom peacefully but this cannot happen if Morgana is left to die. You will play your part now Merlin. You will bring her back and she will live."

"How do I know that what you say is true? How do I know that you're not just saying this to get me to do what you want?"

"I have nothing to lose..."

"...oh but you have plenty to gain!"

"We are running out of time, make your choice!"

Trembling, Merlin shifted back to the Queen's bedside, leaning over the prone body below. He was surprisingly delicate as he trailed the back of his hand over the young woman's forehead, _so cold_, he thought to himself. Somewhere deeply hidden inside there was a spark of something, something akin to pity. He could do this. He bent down to whisper a few words into Morgana's ear and a gold light crossed soulful blue eyes. The glow spread over the dark-haired sorceress' form, the sight beautiful and tragic all at once. Merlin edged nearer, mindful of the eyes that were carefully examining every move he made, his lips hovered just above Morgana's as he literally breathed the life back into her.

Morgause could not deny herself a flux of jealousy given that some former serving boy was now performing a task that would have once been hers and hers alone and a silent anger, that she was no-longer here in this world with the soul she loved. Outside were cries, shouts of joy. The allied effort must have broken through but the victory seemed hollow. The end of the battle meant the end of her short-lived return. For the first time since that terrible day with Uther's sword plunged into her gut she resented the loss of her mortal existence. She would never regret the sacrifice made for Morgana, she regretted not being able to enjoy the spoils by her side. Just what _had _she given up? Now seeing this 'Merlin' giving her sister back her future Morgause could only fall back into the shadows in which she belonged. Life was for the Living.

**Epilogue**

_ Once again I find myself standing up here on the North Tower, surveying all that is mine, over the green fields on which not so long ago we fought for our very survival but today I dare not look any further. I cannot reach for that horizon for tonight, all I dreamed of will turn to nothing as I relinquish my crown in favour of one more deserving. I had always known in my heart that this day would come. I am not a Queen and as of tomorrow I am merely the Lady of Avalon. Morgause does not come to me so often now and I cannot help but wonder if she is perhaps angry with my decision, angry that her sacrifice was perhaps in vain. _

_ In truth it is my devotion to her which keeps me from being the ruler that Camelot deserves. I cannot bear an heir to the throne as I cannot bring myself to love another and from the gossip of the ladies in court I hear that Arthur may already be expecting the next Pendragon. My only child now will be the continuation of my sister's work. Part of the treaty I will sign tonight is the condition that Arthur will actively aid in the continued revival of magic in this world and that he shall seek counsel from the Land of Avalon whenever our Kingdoms are in peril. _

_ At least it shall be a comfort to know that I will not be travelling alone. I shall be joined, not only by my maids but by Gaius too. It became all too clear on the night of battle that my aged friend was no-longer fit for overworking. I offered him a comfortable place of retirement in the Isle where he may continue his research for as long as he chooses. One concession, unfortunately, was my recommendation that Merlin may be given some higher purpose in Court. He did, I suppose, aid in my recovery though only the Goddess knows how- he is still as much of a great oaf as ever!_

_ Whatever Arthur does I wish him well in the end. It is his Kingdom now...as it always was. He is a ruler and I...well, I shall find my way somehow but I think I shall not be returning to Camelot again. _

**The End.**

**Well that's it folks, once again I hope you enjoyed it. See ye again sometime!**


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